Broken
by Karisma1
Summary: One night, Serena and her sister suffered a girl's worst nightmare. Serena was shattered. Justice and love evaded her, but one day, one man, one love dared to make the broken angel whole.
1. Broken P

Broken  
Prologue  
By: Karisma  
Rated: PG-13  
Genre: Alt, Romance  
www.geocities.com/karismafanfic  
Karisma456@hotmail.com  
Standard Disclaimers Apply  
May 2001  
  
I know, i know. i shouldn't start another fic w/o finishing the first one.   
well i finished AOYU and Limelight didn't i? so be happy and read this, i   
hope you enjoy reading as much as i have writing it.  
PS an epilogue of limelight will be out soon. i promise. i think ya'll will   
REALLY like it! :)  
  
Broken  
Prologue  
`Bombay, India 1994  
Serena Corday laughed, her delicate features lighting up as she ran   
around the large yard, a clump of red powder in her hand. Her sandaled feet   
slapped on the cement in an offbeat rhythm, adding to the loud chaos that   
was erupting the Khan's usually peaceful home.  
"Serena!" Neha's slightly accented voice trailed behind her as a cloud   
of green powder was smeared all over Serena's white Punjabi.  
Serena giggled in defeat, but not before flinging her own fistful of   
colored dust on her friend's cheeks. Neha squeaked in outrage before   
erupting into peals of laughter. Serena scanned the horizon for her sister,   
Raye, wondering if she was having half as much fun as Serena herself.  
They were celebrating the Festival of Holi, a party where all the   
neighbors got together annually to dress in white and smear colored powder   
and water on each other. The tradition started by an old mythology when a   
cruel king had a son. One fortune-teller told the king that he would be   
killed by his own son. However, the king was given a boon that he would be   
killed by neither man nor beast. For this blessing, he grew too arrogant   
while his son was pious and good. The king decided to kill his son before   
his son could try. His attempt failed when a god came to save the good son   
and kill the king. The god was half man and half beast, eradicating the   
complicated blessing placed on the king. The next day, the village came to   
celebrate the death of their despotic king, and thus Holi began. The   
merriment lasted for the entire day until the small neighborhood was too   
tired to move, much less chase each other.  
She finally caught sight of her sister's small frame, smiling vividly   
as Raj, Neha's younger brother, sprayed pink water on her similarly white   
dress. Serena grinned, happy her usually reticent sister was happy amidst   
the joy and celebration. Raye had been shy since birth, opting to stick   
behind her older sister in conversations and not add her quiet piece until   
she was spoken to.  
However, the trip to India had done Raye a world of good. Practicing   
her Hindi with ease, Raye had made dozens of friends, making Serena glad she   
had picked up the flyer concerning the foreign exchange program. They were   
learning in India for a year, testing their social and learning abilities in   
the third world country. The sudden change from America to India had stunned   
her at first, the level of modesty and culture had been a shock to her   
system. Raye had adjusted beautifully, fitting it with such ease it had   
startled Serena.  
But seven months later found them deeply rooted in the small community,   
knowing all by name. They were greeted by name, shared smiles and jokes, and   
accepted with such warmth, it made the looming departure date painful to   
think about.  
There had been only one incident that had dampened the wonderful   
experience. Toward the beginning of their trip, Serena and Raye had gone to   
a nearby market to pick up some routine items. Upon naming the type of bread   
she wanted, Serena had caught a group of young, dirty men leering at Raye's   
shy form. Immediately growing protective of her younger, half-sister, Serena   
had grabbed the bag of eggs and bread and led them out the small shop's   
door.  
The group's leader smirked at them as they walked past him, whistling   
lowly while uttering a few choice phrases that were meant to be insulting to   
a lady's honor. Serena had stopped in her tracks and looked at him with   
contempt that was unusual coming from a woman. She then spoke three terse   
words that called him an animal that was unworthy of living among humans. A   
scowl had swept across his dark, stubbled face as his friends howled with   
laughter and slapped his back. And Serena knew she would never forget the   
hatred etched into his tan face as he spat tobacco on the dusted road near   
her sandaled feet.  
Serena shook her blonde head, aware that she was staring at her   
dark-haired sister with an intention that was worrying her. She smiled and   
shook her head the negative to assure the younger woman that nothing was   
wrong. Raye grinned beautifully, her normally stoic face radiant with sun   
and life. She settled to the task of seeking revenge on a ten year old Raj.  
Serena had just gotten shot with a blast of bright blue powder when she   
looked across the way to see the man from the small shop a few months back.   
Her smile faded as she caught his intent gaze on Raye's lithe form.   
Narrowing her eyes in anger at Ajay's obvious appraisal of her sister's   
figure, she crossed her arms over her chest in a militant pose. The action   
seemed to catch his attention as his brown gaze swung over to her. Smirking,   
he blew her a kiss and then winked insolently, sending nausea running   
through her stomach to her throat.  
Suddenly feeling ridiculously protective of her half-sister, Serena ran   
over to her, hugging her tightly to her in a seemingly teasing action. Raye   
squirmed, laughing loudly as she smeared powder all over Serena's waist   
length hair. Serena giggled, her tension temporarily forgotten as she rubbed   
the dust out of her eyes, trying to discern where Raye went off to. When she   
was finally able to see, her heart landed in her throat with a resounding   
thump.  
Raye was nowhere to be found.  
****  
Raye Corday chuckled at her sister's attempt to clean herself up. She   
walked backwards for a bit, not noticing the distance she was effectively   
putting from herself and the boisterous group. She sighed in content before   
pausing at a slight sound. She whirled around to find a small dog whining in   
an alley. Compassion welled up in her heart as she cooed to the three-legged   
animal. Animals such as these were abundant in India, yet Raye never lost   
the sympathetic feeling rise in her throat every time she saw such a   
despondent creature. Against all sanitary rules, she petted the tiny thing,   
not noticing the dark shadow cross her back until a large, dirty hand   
clamped over her mouth.  
****  
Serena ran around in panic, searching the house first before she   
ventured off alone to find her misplaced sister. At seventeen, she felt she   
had a good head upon her shoulder. Raye, a good two years younger than her,   
had the trust of a Labrador, feeling every man had a bit of good inside him   
and that the world was just as kind as the home she was brought up in. these   
realizations of Raye's naiveté only served to heighten Serena's anxiousness.  
She ran through a dark alley, her multi colored dress flowing in the   
breeze behind her. Panting heavily from exertion, she came up to the   
beginnings of a place she did not recognize. It was a remote village, with   
small thatch huts and dust for streets. Relying on nothing more than   
instinct, she ran through the seemingly deserted place. Giving up all hope,   
she began knocking on doors with strength she did not know she possessed.   
Confused as to why nobody seemed to be home, she caught a glimpse of a pale   
woman in an old sari looking at her panicked face through an open window.   
Serena stared in puzzlement, if this woman and all the other villagers were   
home, why were they not answering?  
The response to that question came soon enough when footsteps fell   
behind her. She spun around to see Ajay coming toward her with a sneer   
firmly planted on his snide face. She took one look at him and the quiet   
town and knew instinctively what was going to take place. She shook her head   
in denial and ran toward the town wildly. The Embassy was there. The United   
States Embassy. She heard Ajay take off behind her, his heavy footsteps much   
to close for comfort.  
When she saw the gates loom ahead, hope sprung deep within her.   
Screaming, she cried out in joy and panic; "I'm an American Citizen! I'm an   
American Citizen!"  
When the guards' reaction was that of indifference, Serena realized   
they could not hear nor see her above the crowd of festive people between   
them. Before Serena could run further and alert the townspeople, a hand shot   
out and grabbed a fistful of her hair. A band of steel came around her waist   
and dragged her closer to the hard impact of a body. Fighting and kicking   
did no good as Ajay hauled her back to the deserted town where villagers   
turned their cheeks and looked the other way when told.  
****  
Serena's shock escalated to another level when she realized they had   
Raye as well. Crying out her sister's name in fear, Raye was held in place   
by two of Ajay's lackeys. Serena tried to struggle once again to reach her   
frightened sister. Ajay held on tightly.  
Screaming in Hindi, Serena did everything from cursing him to begging   
that they be released. Ajay seemed implacable as he held her roughly through   
her tirade, flinging her to the ground when she dissolved into sobs. He   
jerked her up by her hair and slapped her across the face. Her head flung to   
the side from the force, Serena tasted the metallic tang of blood in the   
corner of her mouth. It was a taste she was soon to know familiarly as   
Ajay's fist came crashing where his palm had left.  
After a few more minutes, Serena was filled with an uneasy sensation of   
blessed numbness as Ajay's hands ceased their cruel acts. She coughed   
violently, her cheek pressed against the dust. Her stomach burned from the   
rough treatment, her throat ached with the taut wire he had pulled against   
it mercilessly. Floating on the cloud between consciousness and darkness,   
Serena closed her swollen eyes. She was jerked up again and came to meet   
Ajay's menacing face.  
Ajay brought his head close to her ear and whispered in perfect   
English. "I want you to watch." He smiled at her eerily before kissing her   
cheek tenderly. His next word completely belied his seemingly gentle action.   
"Cutra." It was the English equivalent of bitch, but the word did not sting   
her as much as her awareness did.  
The question of watching what never occurred to her. She immediately   
knew the answer when she saw Ajay's lascivious gaze swing to a trembling   
Raye. At that moment, her battered state was nothing. Because as Ajay   
strolled over to where Raye was curved into a little ball, Serena knew she   
would be spared the awful degradation—her sister wouldn't.  
He pulled off his sweaty shirt as his men stripped the clothes of Raye.   
She screamed in fright and tried valiantly to keep her Indian outfit on, but   
it was futile. The men were stronger and brutal as the vested off Raye's   
clothes and pride. She screamed for Serena as Ajay unbuckled his belt with   
deliberation.  
Serena couldn't watch, but had to as tears blurred her eyes. Her hands   
were tied behind her back and she was suffering from what she would later   
learn as a broken leg and ribs. From the dusted ground, she screamed at him   
as he dropped his pants.  
"No! God, no! Please don't!"  
But he did.  
****  
The sky cried for her; the clouds loomed over, their dusky wisps   
sobbing for her plight. The normally hot climate was replaced by a dismal   
rain, misting over her collapsed figure. The blonde enveloped in the vapor   
looked like a fallen angel in her dirty white garb.  
If not for her innate need for survival, part of Serena would have   
curled into a ball and waited until starvation or degradation killed her.   
But the sense of anger overcame her despondency. The need to see her   
attacker's receive the punishment they deserved convinced her to move.  
Serena squirmed on her belly, gathering up the strength to wriggle the   
yards to where Raye's still body lay. Praying that she was alive, she   
wriggled on her stomach, willing her legs to move. When they did not respond   
immediately, Serena bit her lip, rejecting the overwhelming urge to cry.  
She sank back into the dust, her hand shaking uncontrollably. Rain fell   
all around her, enclosing her in a hopeless pit of despair. She closed her   
eyes and gritted her teeth, keeping her gaze firm on the motionless lump   
ahead of her. Her slender arms shook as she lifted herself up on them, her   
lower body refusing to move regardless of the stabbing pain her right leg   
brought her in its twisted position. After a few awkward moments, she   
finally settled her body into a perverse rhythm. Right arm, drag, left arm,   
drag, right arm…  
After the most excruciatingly painful and slow minutes of her life, she   
finally collapsed near Raye's naked body. Gripping the ripped dress that   
fell down to Raye's knees when she was wearing it last, she managed to   
awkwardly cover her sister's violated body. The tears that soaked her cheeks   
fell, creating dark drops on the sullied material. Serena checked Raye's   
creamy wrist for a pulse and found a faint one.  
She fell on her back next to Raye's still body. She was thankful Raye   
had passed out of fear when Ajay had penetrated her. She was saved the   
humiliation of knowing him as he was inside her. She coughed and cried   
alternatively, the gasping noises disturbing the still air. Knowing full   
well she was incapable of getting help by herself, she resorted to the only   
tactic she had.  
"Somebody," she croaked, pain rising in her throat as the words came   
out harshly. Her voice sounded wheezy and weak, as if she was asthmatic and   
sick. She licked her parched lips and tried again. "Somebody!" It was louder   
this time, though it hurt like hell to get her pitch that high. For all the   
pain it caused her, it did no good. No one came.  
And finally, somewhere in between when the festivities ended and dinner   
began, Serena Corday passed out, collapsing her exhausted, battered body   
next to that of her sister's.  
****  
"Miss Corday?" A small, dark haired nurse inquired, her white uniform   
matching the impeccable walls of the monotonous hospital. She spoke clearly   
and in English, her accent slight as she walked over to her second patient.   
When she entered the small room, she was struck by the dreariness of it. As   
a nurse, she had seen the worst of human nature and the consequences, but   
she had also witnessed bright rooms full of cheerful family members and   
bright flowers. This particular room, however, was dark, the lights off and   
the blinds closed. She made out a figure on the bed and another one slumped   
in a chair. She remembered when the two girls had been rushed in, both   
bleeding heavily, though each from much different wounds.  
She walked in closer, her eyes adjusting to the dull room, she hated   
bringing more bad news to the slip of the girl who seemed to have taken on   
the role of being the younger girl's mother. The poor dear barely seemed   
sixteen.  
At the sound of her name, Serena tore her glazed eyes from Raye's   
sleeping form to the small nurse. "Yes?" She answered, her voice hoarse with   
emotion as well as physical injury.  
"Miss Corday, the doctor finished the labs on your sister. It seems too   
much tissue damage was done in the…" The nurse trailed off, unsure to   
continue, not wanting the ugly word to set off the fragile, tenuous girl.  
"Rape." Serena whispered fiercely. Taking her sister's cool hand, she   
firmly pressed her lips to the back of her hand in comfort and desperation.   
"It was rape. She was raped."  
The nurse nodded, her heart going out to the blonde girl. "Yes. The   
rape. The tissue was ripped, causing her uterus to suffer irreversible   
damage." She cleared her throat and when she spoke again, her tone was   
filled with sympathy. "I'm afraid Miss Corday won't ever be able to bear   
children."  
She had expected rage or a bout of tears. That she was certified to   
handle. Emotional outbursts were expected and controlled by nurses. But she   
had not anticipated this girl's reaction to the horrendous news. Serena sat   
silently for a moment before nodding and turning back to her sister's pale   
body. Her silence had politely dismissed the nurse and dispelled all her   
official duties. Sighing silently for all that she could not do, the nurse   
turned silently on the shiny floor and closed the door softly behind her.  
A good few moments after the nurse had left, Serena calmly hurled a   
small white vase against the opposite wall, watching the shards skitter   
around the floor in a crazed dance. She sat in complete silence for a   
moment, not so much as a tear streaking down her pallid face. Then with a   
deliberation that was as frightful as it was dangerous, Serena Corday   
hobbled over to the mess and swept up the pieces of white porcelain,   
spilling them into the garbage can with slow reflection.  
Serena thought how symbolic the vase was of Raye. Her innocence, her   
womanhood, her self-respect, her future was broken irrevocably in one,   
horrifying moment. And nothing, nothing could bring any of it back.  
That night, a janitor came to dump out the trashcan next to Raye's   
hospital bed. The broken shards of the vase were dumped into a larger can,   
and with it, went Serena's last show of emotion.  
  



	2. Broken 1

Broken  
Chapter One  
By: Karisma  
Rated: PG-13  
Genre: Alt, Romance  
www.geocities.com/karismafanfic  
Karisma456@hotmail.com  
Standard Disclaimers Apply  
June 2001  
  
London, England 2001  
Darien McDermott sat at his desk, impatiently waiting for his   
secretary to come in with his messages. Loosening his tie restlessly,   
he spun around in his chair to peer over his office's view. The entire   
back wall was solid glass, allowing him one of the finest views London   
had to offer. Barely glancing at the spectacular evening skyline, he   
sighed heavily at the delay his novice secretary was causing him.   
Unsure what had possessed his friend to hire such a young,   
inexperienced dilettante; he ran an agitated hand through his dark   
hair.  
He groaned silently when he heard her rush in, breathless. Turning   
once again in his plush chair, he held out his hand for the yellow   
files. The young girl blushed deeply to the same color of her red hair   
when he flipped through them brusquely. Nodding to her curtly, he began   
his work, effectively cueing her exit.  
Molly Hanson sighed silently, if she was honest with herself, she   
realized she had no business starting work with the most demanding man   
alive. Fresh out of college, she knew she wasn't experienced enough for   
such a challenging job.  
After a disastrous first day, she had decided on requesting a transfer.   
In fact, she was on her way out the door when Mr. McDermott had called   
her back to pull some more files for him in a ridiculously narrow time   
slot. Only Superman could please Darien McDermott, and even then he   
would tsk-tsk at the delay the fastest man alive had caused him!  
Content with her decision, she left his office and immediately   
picked up the phone to request another boss in the same building.   
Someone who was, preferably, not the CEO of one of the richest, most   
powerful, international communication systems in the world.  
****  
Serena Corday brushed her light hair out of her blue eyes. Typing   
rapidly on her laptop, she finished the article with a sudden burst of   
inspiration.  
Saving it triumphantly, she reached over for her forgotten coffee and   
took a sip. Grimacing instantly at the cold, bitter liquid, she   
automatically checked her slim watch to find out exactly how long she   
had been in the café. Her large eyes widened in alarm as she realized   
the time. Snapping her gray laptop shut, she snatched up her bag and   
quickly packed up. Running out of the café, she hailed a cab and was   
soon whisked away into the London traffic.  
She arrived at her sister's home breathless, frantically trying   
not to be late for the long anticipated reunion. She entered the cozy   
home, warmth surrounding her from all sides as she followed the noise   
of laughter into the tactfully decorated living room.  
Neha jumped up when she saw Serena. Engulfing her in a tight   
embrace, the shorter woman laughed somewhat nervously. When the two   
women pulled apart, Neha looked at her friend in nervousness. When they   
had last parted, Serena had been in a cold shock while Raye had been   
reticent, staring off into space without recognition of anyone. Guilt   
seeped through her at what tragedies had befallen her two wonderful   
friends. However, when she saw her blonde friend candidly happy to see   
her, all worries about the past dissolved.  
Serena saw the worried emotions fly across Neha's petite face and   
smiled broadly to assure her. She knew the torture the Khans had gone   
through when she and Raye had made their hasty departure. Although they   
had nothing to do with  
Ajay or his thugs, a sense of responsibility had fallen on their   
shoulders, making it painful to watch their exchange students leave on   
such dreadful terms.  
Raye jumped up in excitement and led her older sister to sit next   
to a grown up Raj. They all exchanged pleasantries before a unpleasant   
silence spread over them.  
Typical Raye, desiring everyone to be comfortable and happy,   
chattered on about humorous times that had taken place during the stay.   
However, everyone was not pondering over the anecdotes, they were   
remembering a more somber experience. The recollection of the hospital   
where Raye had lay, so still, so pale, her face crumbling with   
understanding as she learned of her inability to bear children.  
But Raye had found a man who understood and loved her regardless.   
In light of her usual trusting nature, it should not have surprised   
Serena that Raye had taken to loving the company of the opposite sex so   
quickly. Within two years she was dating Chad steadily. They had gotten   
engaged and finally married; the couple was now looking forward to the   
adoption process that would start within the next month.  
Serena had never fully forgotten, nor gotten over, the incident.   
When she had arrived back to American soil, the justice system had done   
nothing to help her considering the crime had been committed in India,   
regardless of it happening to one of their citizens. No one had wanted   
to take a case he was sure to lose. The legalities in India were   
derisory. Not only were judges easily bribed into seeing nothing of   
importance in a rape, they were also sexist, resulting in only   
patronizing pity that was nothing close to the hard justice  
Serena craved.  
So their attackers had gotten off scot-free. With not even a slap   
on the wrist to appease her, Serena had gone off to college, refusing   
dates and thereby winning the delightful nickname: Cold fish Corday.  
She had focused all her energies on writing and obtaining her   
degree. She had discovered her passion for journalism immediately after   
the attack. She dreamt of writing scathing pieces that would tell the   
world about the injustices done to her and millions of women all over   
the world. At first, it was only a venting process for her; her pent up   
anger would be released in a page long biting diatribe. But then, after   
a long talk with her professor, she was told she had raw talent, talent   
that would be a shame to waste. From then on, she had the pleasure of   
acquiring a goal that could take up all her energy and time. She had   
learned after the attack too much time on her hands would only result   
in insanity. Early on, she trained herself to harvest all her mind,   
body, and soul to the task at hand and never let herself think for too   
long.  
Eventually, her hard work and insane hours paid off when she was   
offered a job in London for a newspaper. She had built herself up to   
attain a column where she would write about life perspectives and offer   
humor and poignancy to all who read it.  
The job was not as full time as she would have liked, the hours   
were wonderful to someone who had a busy social calendar. Serena,   
however, only had her work to keep her occupied and writing an article   
a week paid well, but did nothing to ease the dread of going home alone   
to face her thoughts. She was forever looking for something to fill   
more of her time. She had tried hobbies and writing a novel, the former   
was frustratingly mundane and the latter only magnified the ache of the   
attack and her empty life subsequent to it.  
Words could not describe how happy she was for her sister, but   
sometimes, when she was in her bed at night, she couldn't help but wish   
she, too, had someone to wean strength from. But it was crazy talk, for   
it seemed Serena Corday was doomed to a solitary life, for who wanted   
damaged goods with scarring pasts? However crude the statements, Serena   
knew understanding men such as Chad were hard to come by, and that was   
with Raye's sweet disposition. Of course, it wasn't like she had tried   
to involve herself into a serious relationship with man, but she was   
getting there. Serena realized that not all men were evil; she   
consciously was comfortable with many of them. But even now, seven   
years later, at the mature age of twenty-four, she would freeze, or   
experience the terrifying moment of acute panic if a man looked at her   
in a certain way, or touched her when she wasn't aware of it. But she   
was getting better with time. It was only a matter of someone willing   
to go through the turmoil of an intimate relationship with her. She was   
sarcastic, biting, and downright rude at times. What man on earth would   
want to put up with that on top of the baggage she came with?  
****  
Darien hung up his phone, satisfied with the pleasing news that he   
would have another secretary brought to him first thing tomorrow. He   
was assured this one was experienced, practiced, and most importantly,   
middle aged. The last thing he needed was a mindless, twenty year old   
female hanging on his every word with a giggle and blush at every   
glance. A secretary in her fifties would be stiff, efficient, and not   
too personal, ensuring privacy and no expectations for a camaraderie   
after hours.  
He stretched in his chair, rubbing the tension out of his neck   
with one hand while the other dialed another number.  
"Hello, Ken?"  
"Darien?" A groggy voice came through. "What's the matter? What   
happened?"  
"Nothing happened, I just wanted to discuss those figures you   
found today."  
"You mean yesterday." Ken's voice took an oddly peeved tone.  
"Yesterday?"  
"Yes, yesterday, you workaholic. It's two a.m.!" With that, Darien   
received the sharp dial tone.  
Only Ken would dare hang up on him and that was only because they   
had known each other since boyhood. The small fact that Darien was   
Ken's boss did nothing to hinder their friendship as the two kept their   
business life and friendship on two different levels.  
Darien sighed heavily as he, too, hung up his phone. Grabbing his   
jacket and briefcase, he closed his office behind him. Nodding   
cordially to the alert security man near the glass doors, he fished out   
his keys and unlocked the expensive Mercedes.  
Driving home on the deserted roads, his mind never left his   
office, discerning business tactics and deals, debating mergers and   
numbers and facts into a calculated mind whose intellect was only   
surpassed by its astounding memory.  
Pulling into his four-car garage, Darien entered the opulent house   
through the garage door. He passed the luxurious paintings and   
expensive furniture with nonchalance, pausing only to glance at the   
dinner his housekeeper had left him.  
Not bothering to fix himself a plate, Darien headed toward the master   
bedroom and showered, his mind rethinking the possibility of a merger   
India.  
The benefits would be wonderful, communication between the country   
and the  
United States was wonderful. He had set up multiple deals in the   
States, it made sense to make acquaintances in India. The initial cost   
would be exorbitant, but the end results would be lucrative if he   
played his cards right. He was positive setting up a camp in the heart   
of India would be wise, but how to go about it was a conundrum. Darien   
would need to set up a deal that would be appealing to the   
communication officers there and in order to make him feel at ease,   
there was one obvious factor he would require: a translator. That much   
was obvious and once they felt comfortable there, he could begin the   
negotiations to make GRC  
India's new communications systems.  
****  
Serena entered the restaurant, the spicy smells and cultural   
environment reminding her off all the things she loved about India. She   
spotted Raye immediately and smiled. Walking toward the table, she   
greeted her half sister and her husband, her voice soft and blended in   
with the music softly playing.  
She sat down next to Neha and her brother, laying her napkin on her   
lap. The  
conversation was light as they waited for the waiter to come to their   
table.  
When the owner of the posh restaurant came to see them, the party   
of five  
looked up, surprised. Speaking in Hindi, the impeccably dressed man   
greeted Neha  
and Raj with a warm smile. They responded enthusiastically, they had   
not seen  
many Indian people in their trip and were reminded of home to see this   
short,  
slightly plump man.  
Raye looked at Serena and winked. She had forgotten whatever Hindi   
she had  
picked up immediately after the attack. The doctors thought it was her   
way of  
effectively dismissing all associated with the rape. The inability to   
recall the  
language must have been subconscious because Raye was dismayed to   
forget her  
second language. Serena however, begging for the release of   
forgetting,  
forgetting it all: the attack, the language, the culture, everything.   
But she  
couldn't, and part of her didn't want to; She loved the culture and   
there were  
wonderful things about the country that she admired. She wouldn't give   
the  
attack the satisfaction of letting her hate the very things she yearned   
to learn  
about. So Serena remained fluent in Hindi, and although she was rusty,   
she  
decided to participate in the conversation and give the cordial man a   
shock.  
"Namaste, sahi. Aap kaisee hoon?" She had asked him how he was and   
the  
happy surprise written on his face was answer enough as his grin grew   
broader.  
He answered cheerfully, retelling of how his wife and children   
were faring.  
They chatted about where in India he was from and how his relatives   
back home  
were doing. When he asked how she knew Hindi, Neha shifted   
uncomfortably in her  
seat, aware of the tense subject. But Serena told him of her schooling   
trip  
calmly, her placid face not betraying one iota of the pain the attack   
gave her.  
Nobody at the table saw the tall man enter the restaurant and pass   
the  
blonde a curious look. Nobody saw his face split into a grin that   
didn't quite  
reach his eyes. And nobody saw him reach into his coat pocket for a   
phone and  
make a quick call that made an appointment for an international video   
conference  
for later that week.  
****  
"Well, I'm off," Serena dabbed her mouth and placed her white   
linen napkin  
on the table and smiled at its occupants. "Thanks for lunch. I'll see   
you later  
at Raye's house?"  
When they nodded the affirmative and said their good-byes. She   
left them to  
continue with their idle chatter as she waved to the owner, Mr. Patel,   
and  
adjusted her purse strap.  
"Excuse me," a deep voice said behind her, stopping her on the   
sidewalk.  
She turned around nervously, wary at the sound of the stranger's male   
voice.  
"Yes?" She asked politely, keeping a good distance between their   
bodies.  
"I was wondering if I might have a word," the tall man gestured to   
a dark  
limo next to him and parked at the curb.  
Serena arched a delicate eyebrow and cut him down with an acid   
reply that  
was true to her character, "You want me to get into a car alone with a   
strange  
man? Obviously you believe the myth about dumb blondes."  
The man's lips seemed to twitch imperceptibly. Smart sunglasses   
covered his  
eyes and Serena wished she wasn't wearing them so she could gauge his  
expression. "Do I look like the type to ravish you in broad daylight?"  
Serena took the invitation to give the man an appraisal. His clean   
cut  
manner looked honest enough, but there was something menacing in his   
broad, six  
foot two frame. Neatly trimmed ebony hair complimented his dark suit.   
His entire  
aura gave off a suave, cultured air that wasn't dangerous—at least not   
in the  
typical definition. But there was something dangerous in the curl of   
curiosity  
that swept through her at what the man wanted.  
She rolled her blue eyes and smiled aloofly. "I don't think so."   
Turning,  
she continued walking, her low heels clicking on the cement. It took   
less than a  
second for her to hear heavy footsteps behind her. She spun around,   
anger in her  
eyes and voice. "What?" She snapped.  
The man held up his hands in surrender. "Whoa. I just want to talk   
to you."  
"Sure, "talk". Right." Her caustic tone let him know exactly what   
she  
thought about his suggestion.  
He grew angry as he whipped off his sunglasses, his cobalt eyes   
narrowed in  
annoyance. "Look lady, if I wanted sex, there are quite a few willing   
women who  
would be more than happy to take care of that for me. So there would no   
reason  
for me to attack you in broad daylight. And if I was an ax-murderer, do   
you  
really think I'd invite you to a limousine to discuss business?"  
She gave him a saccharine sweet smile. "I bet you say that to all   
your  
victims."  
He smiled at her remark, his lopsided grin breaking his hard, dark   
face. "I  
wanted to offer you a job."  
"Do I really look unemployed?"  
When he looked at her, his thoughts had nothing to do with   
business. Her  
slim frame was fit into a cream colored, chic suit. The thigh length   
skirt and  
matching blazer subtly covered her figure, but Darien's shrewd gaze   
could easily  
detect the soft, feminine physique beneath them. And there was no   
hiding the  
beauty in her expressive face, even with her thick hair pulled back in   
the  
severe bun. Wide set aquamarine eyes were placed above a pert nose.   
They were  
both above a pink mouth that was captivating to watch move.  
"No." He cleared his throat and finally spoke. "But I'm prepared   
to pay you  
more than your current job is."  
"Is that right," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in a  
belligerent fashion. "And what might this "job" be?"  
He resented her implication that the vocation was anything less   
than above  
reproach stung him. "A translator," he said frostily, tucking his   
sunglasses  
inside his coat.  
Her face lost its patronizing smirk. "I don't—"  
Before she could continue denying it, he cut in, "Before you start   
lying to  
me, let me tell you something. I heard you back in the restaurant and I   
need  
someone who speaks and understands Hindi fluently."  
"Why?" She inquired boldly, meeting his blue gaze head on.  
He didn't so much as twitch from her steady stare. "Because I'm   
about to  
make a business proposition to the head of the communications   
department there."  
She nodded, fixing him with an icy stare that had won her her   
infamous  
nickname. "I see. You do realize, of course, that the majority of   
India's  
population has been schooled to learn English flawlessly from when they   
are in  
first grade?"  
"Of course, as are multiple other countries. But I still feel that   
people  
are more comfortable speaking their first language. And you, my dear,   
can  
provide that comfort."  
Perhaps it was the way the words 'my dear' sounded so glib on his   
tongue,  
or maybe it was how he looked her up and down when speaking, but Serena   
suddenly  
felt warm and irritated all at the same time. Mentally giving herself a   
firm  
shake, she brought her penetrating gaze back up to the stranger's face.  
"So I'm supposed to help you make the poor man feel at home so you   
can zero  
in for the kill?"  
He smiled blithely. "Like I told you, I'm a business man, not an  
ax-murderer."  
"And if I told you they were one in the same?"  
"Touché." He smiled, his hard blue eyes glinting in the sun. His   
lips  
curled up to reveal a row of perfectly white teeth.  
"Well, it's been grand, Mr…" Serena paused, cueing him to give her   
his  
name.  
"McDermott."  
"Yes, well, it's been grand, Mr. McDermott, but I'm afraid you'll   
have to  
find yourself someone else." She shrugged apologetically and turned,   
walking  
away with quick, punctuating strides.  
"But I want you!" He exclaimed behind her.  
She raised an eyebrow at the double entendre when she looked over   
her  
shoulder at him. He didn't blush, rather, he just stared right back at   
her, his  
masked expression revealing nothing.  
"I'm sorry, Mr. McDermott," she said simply. They stared at each   
other for  
a moment, each frustrated at the other's stubbornness. Finally, Serena   
broke the  
moment by getting into the back of the cab that had stopped for her.  
Darien watched her in the back of the car, her perfect posture   
looking out  
the window at something indefinable. He watched her profile for as long   
as he  
could before the yellow car swerved and was out of sight. Shaking his   
head  
slowly, he smiled at the challenge she would prove to be. He slipped   
into the  
back of the limousine and gave the chauffer directions. His thoughts   
slipped  
back to the elusive woman once again. One thing was for certain: There   
was more  
to Serena Corday than met the eye. And he intended to find out every   
last detail  
of it.  
  



	3. Broken 2

Broken   
Chapter Two   
By Karisma   
Rated: PG-13   
Romance, Alt.   
Karisma456@hotmail.com   
Standard Disclaimers Apply   
June 2001   
  
FINALS ARE OVER!! AND NOW I AM GOING ON VACATION FOR THREE WEEKS. DON'T   
WORRY. THERE IS AN INTERNET CONNECTION...YOU'LL GET NEW CHAPTERS. :)   
THAT'S ALL YOU WANT FROM ME, ISN'T IT? :( LOL GO ON READ!!!   
  
Serena stepped out of her apartment building; the dismal sky   
offered a zephyr that ruffled her hair lovingly. She had opted to wear   
it down today, something she rarely dared to do after the trip. Male   
attention could be downright dangerous at times. But today she was   
feeling adventurous and effervescent. Who knew? Today she might   
actually accept the habitual asking of an editor at the paper for a   
date.   
"I know you want this job," a cool voice behind her said.   
She spun around, terror initially running through her veins before   
she recognized the aloof man in the expensive suit. Trying to calm her   
beating heart, she allowed herself the privilege of growing angry at   
his audacity.   
"It appears to me you need an English translator, Mr. McDermott,"   
she uttered laconically, "Because you obviously don't know what the   
word 'no' means."   
He grinned and caught up with her, striding instep with her paces.   
Despite her tall, five foot seven frame, her hurried steps were no   
match for his casual, long ones. She finally gave up, stopping in her   
tracks and whirling to face him, her flushed face blazing up at him.   
"Do you ever give up?"   
"No, not usually." He grinned amicably and winked at her.   
She blew out her breath at the corner of her mouth, puffing a   
wayward strand of hair out of her face. It was then Darien realized how   
fetching she was, and how even if she remained adamant in her refusal   
of his proposal, he would still come after her. For more personal   
reasons that platonic ones.   
"But I know you want this. Raye told me you were looking for   
something to fill your extra time—"   
She held up her small hands to stop him. "Raye? You talked to   
Raye?" Her sparkling eyes grew wider.   
"Sure, she and Chad are wonderful hosts." The twinkle was back in   
his eye, and it occurred to Serena that he was having fun with her as a   
challenge.   
"Fine."   
"Fine what?" He teased, knowing full well what he admittance   
meant.   
She arched her blonde brow at him in disdain. "I'll take the job,   
Mr. McDermott. We can discuss payment and the hours later." With that,   
she walked away, giving him the same amount of interest as she would   
bestow upon an insect.   
Darien watched her expressionlessly before pulling out a small   
black phone and confirming an international video conference for two   
days from now.   
****   
Serena typed her article later that day, her mind still on the   
enigmatic, persistent man that had wheedled her into a job. She   
supposed he was handsome, if you got over his complete lack of manners.   
Talking to her at a public restaurant was one thing, blindsiding her at   
her home was a complete other! She sighed, she would get an earful from   
Raye about the "handsome" man that came asking about her.   
Shaking herself out of her thoughts by a physical movement, she   
stared at her black screen stupidly. Typing a few keys, green letters   
glowed back at her. After a few seconds of silence, a slow smile curved   
up her full lips. Mr. McDermott may have been useful after all. She   
began to rapidly type.   
I'm no Ms. Manners, but I do know when something has gone too far. The   
manners   
of today's society have gone from meager to nonexistent. The other day   
I was   
accosted by a young man who persisted to...   
****   
" 'Coax me into a job I didn't really want. Mind you, I had never   
met this man in my life and yet he had the nerve to stop me in the   
middle of a busy sidewalk and all but beg me to do him this favor!'."   
Darien put down the paper with a resound thump as he finished reading   
all he wanted to. Taking a long sip of his hot black coffee, he fought   
the urge to smile at his new employee's acerbic recount. Beg, indeed!   
He had reread the article countless times, each time appreciated   
the subtle wit she injected into her column. Staring at his computer   
screen, he stretched his fingers and buzzed in his secretary.   
"Margerie," he called to his replacement, "I don't want to accept and   
calls or visitors for the next two hours."   
"Yes, sir," the elderly woman replied, her tone brusque and   
efficient as she clicked him off.   
He lost track of time, but was jilted out of his paper work to see   
a woman stride in through the double oak doors as if she owned the   
entire building. Darien looked up with an arched brow to see Serena in   
the middle of his opulent office, looking around with flagrant   
derision.   
"It was rather rude of you to give me a job and then make sure your   
witch of a secretary didn't let me in." she planted her hands on slack-  
clad hips in a belligerent pose.   
Darien lifted up the day's paper with a smirk. "I had better be   
careful then, I wouldn't want you to write another scathing expose   
about my dreadful manners."   
She had the grace to blush before her perfect complexion cleared.   
"What would I be doing at this job?"   
"Translating."   
She rolled her eyes at the nebulous reply and primly sat on the   
green couch in the expansive office. She watched him warily as he   
stepped from his desk down to where she sat. He was so close their   
knees where touching; Serena had bend her head up painfully to look up   
at him. Nervousness fluttered in her stomach and she was relieved when   
he tugged up his slack pants to sit directly across from her.   
He named a sum for her paycheck and Serena had to work to keep her   
face calm and stoic. The figure was more than generous and she had a   
hard time believing it was just for translating.   
"What would my hours be?" She took out a notebook pad and had her   
pencil poised.   
He looked at her, amused. "You'll be here as long as I'm here."   
"Excuse me?"   
"There's a time difference between here and India, or didn't you   
know? I may need you at any given time—the rather liberal paycheck is   
for those odd hours." He looked pleased to see her at a loss for words.   
He leaned forward, his intent eyes searching her perfect features   
thoroughly. His hands were linked casually between his parted knees.   
She nodded, regaining her equilibrium in a record time. "That's   
fine," she stated, "I can bring my work here." She looked around the   
large office, her eyes scanning his desk, the furniture where meetings   
were held, the mini bar, and finally him. "Is there some place where I   
could write my articles?"   
He gestured to the office she had just finished scrutinizing.   
"There's plenty of room here."   
"Here?" She blanched. Somehow, the idea of working in such close   
proximity with this disarming man was troubling. Add that to the late   
hours they would be spending alone together…   
"Is there a problem?" He asked guilelessly, his eyes exceptionally   
wide as if confused by her appalled manner.   
She straightened her shoulders. She had promised herself that there   
would be no way she would let the attack let her run away scared   
forever. She had to start trusting sooner or later. Accepting these   
terms would be a great step in the right direction. And if Mr.   
McDermott's attentions got a bit too familiar, she could always try out   
the moves from the self-defense class she had taken.   
"No problem, Mr. McDermott."   
"The name is Darien." He stood up and she followed suit, not   
wanting to feel vulnerable once again by his looming height.   
She nodded. "I'm aware of your name, Mr. McDermott," she said, her   
tone even as she returned his intent stare. She turned slightly to her   
to grab her coat and purse, efficiently breaking eye contact. When she   
faced him again, a bright smile was in place. Folding the overcoat over   
her arm and adjusting the purse strap on her shoulder, she stuck out   
her hand.   
His blue gaze started from her slender hand up to her arm, all the   
way down her slim body, and finally back to her face. She shivered from   
the lazy approval written on his handsome features. It was as if his   
the sparks his cobalt eyes had been palpable. He finally took her   
proffered hand in his larger one, engulfing it in warmth.   
Serena was surprised at the jolt she felt run through her at the   
contact their hands made. She looked down at their joined contact when   
he failed to let go after the appropriate time. They were capable   
hands, strong and lean without the added clutter jewelry gave. Shocked   
at her thoughts, she jerked her hand back none too casually.   
"Good-bye, Mr. McDermott," she said breathlessly, her throat dry. A   
dainty pink tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly parched lips and   
she felt him watch the move with interest. She turned quickly and all   
but ran to the formidable doors. Her hand was on the brass knob when   
his voice reached her ears.   
"You start tomorrow morning, Miss. Corday," his voice was   
deliberately mocking as he said the last bit. "Six-thirty."   
She stepped out and slammed the door behind her as hard as she   
could.   
****   
Serena stifled a yawn as she rode the elevator up the next morning.   
As a writer, she was used to setting her own hours; that meant sleeping   
in when she saw fit. Rubbing her make-up free face, she tried to will   
her coffee to kick in. The elevator stopped and she stepped out, her   
black flats soundless on the marble floor. She nodded to Darien's   
secretary, wondering if the woman always looked like she had just   
bitten something sour. She slipped through the double doors unannounced   
and wasn't surprised to see Darien at his desk, reading intently, only   
stopping sporadically to scribble notes.   
She cleared her throat and waited for him to notice her. When he   
continued with his work, oblivious to her presence, she shrugged and   
made herself comfortable on the sofa. She set her laptop on the glass   
coffee table and waited while it booted up. Within a few minutes, she   
was typing rapidly, making bulletin points for new ideas and how to   
elaborate on each one.   
An immeasurable amount of time later, she was making an outline for   
next week's column when a firm hand clapped down on her shoulder. She   
only paused to gasp in terror before she blindly punched backwards,   
hearing the affirmative oomph of pain. Serena, then gathering her   
senses rather than acting on instinct, jumped up and spun around,   
shocked to see Darien cupping his nose with one lean hand.   
"Oh! I am so sorry!" She ran around the couch to meet him, her   
hands uselessly trying to see if he was all right. "Are you okay?"   
He dropped his hand and wrinkled his aristocratic nose a few times.   
"I don't think it's broken," he finally assessed, touching it tenderly.   
Serena immediately grew edgy after the relief that he was fine.   
"Well, you shouldn't have sneaked up on me."   
"Well, I wouldn't have if I had known you were Ms. Jackie Chan," he   
retorted.   
The comment forced a slight smile out of her as she rolled her   
eyes. "Hardly."   
"Where on earth did you learn to that?"   
"Self-defense," she said breezily, heading back to her laptop in   
hope that the action would render the conversation terminated.   
"Why do you feel you need defense?" He persisted, following her and   
plopping his tall frame next to her on the suddenly small sofa.   
"I think every woman should feel as if she needs defense," she   
stated matter of factly, hoping he wouldn't be able to distinguish the   
subconscious clenching of her jaw and tightening of her back.   
He watched her profile as she leaned forward and resumed typing;   
he stared at her small hands and noticed a small silver band on her   
right ring finger. It shone when it caught the light just so, just like   
her blonde hair. Snapping himself out of his effusive thoughts, he   
recommenced his inquisition.   
"Why?"   
He saw her straighten, her face drawn into a tight line, her lips   
pursing. Her hands stilled as she injected as much calm as she could   
into her voice. She continued typing random words to give the air of   
nonchalance. "There are hundreds of women attacked a day. If they knew   
how to defend themselves, they'd stand a better chance of escaping   
safely. Isn't there something you should be doing?"   
The last two sentences were so random and rushed together, he took   
a second to address the question. "Not until that call comes through."   
He smiled innocently at her and she shifted uncomfortably, scooting a   
bit away from him.   
"Well," she started shakily, disconcerted by his proximity. "When   
do expect it?" She jumped up and walked over to the mini bar to pour   
herself a glass of water she didn't really want.   
He grinned blithely, amused by her antics. "Who knows?"   
"I see." She licked her lips nervously, keeping her back to him,   
and decided to prevaricate. "So who are these people that you want to   
charm the pants off of?" She walked back stiffly and sat pointedly on   
the single armchair a good distance away from him.   
He noticed her change of seat with a raised eyebrow but did not   
comment. "Well, I thought I'd be dealing with the big-wigs from New   
Delhi, but it turns out my main partner will be a man from Bombay." He   
did not notice her ramrod back grow tauter at the mention of the city.   
"I think his last name is Singh; I'll find out for sure when we have   
the video conference."   
Serena let out a strangled cry and Darien's head snapped up to see   
her stricken expression. She seemed to be short of breath but managed   
to choke out, "What is his first name?"   
"I'm not sure," Darien's brow furrowed as he got up to help her.   
She stopped him by holding up a hand. "I'm fine." She took a few   
deep breaths. There were plenty of Singhs in all of India, and chances   
were it was not an Ajay Singh. She was being paranoid and ridiculous.   
They sat in silence before Darien finally broke it. "So how did you   
learn Hindi?"   
The loaded question, added to the tension that the name Singh   
inherently brought, proved to be too much for her. She shot out of the   
soft chair and headed toward the door, mumbling some half plausible   
excuse about needing to use the restroom.   
She splashed cold water on her face repeatedly. What was the matter   
with her? She had answered that question plenty of times; each with the   
same polite courtesy that left out the major detail of why she left   
early. So why was she so tongue-tied with him?   
It was the shock of hearing the name Singh after so long, she   
decided firmly. Never mind the strange pounding in her ears, or the   
thumping of her heart, or the elevated pulse—it was all the adrenaline   
of hearing the bitter family name for the first time in years. That had   
to be it.   
Because there was no way Darien McDermott could be the source of   
the havoc her body was wreaking.   
****   
Darien impatiently waited for Serena to return. Her abrupt   
departure had him stumped as well as intrigued. When she finally   
entered, her head ducked to avoid his piercing gaze, he remained   
silent, choosing not to press the issue of her running out. But, at the   
same time, he wasn't about to let her off easy.   
"You were right about to tell me how you knew Hindi," he reminded   
her politely, watching her cheeks flame with embarrassment.   
She cleared her throat. "Right. Well, I was an exchange student   
there for quite a few months."   
"When?"   
"1994."   
"How long?"   
"Are you always this nosy?"   
"No."   
The implication that she was special sent her blinking for a few   
minutes, her head reeling from the snappy dialogue they had shared.   
"Then why start with me?" She bit her lip immediately after the words   
left her mouth; she shouldn't have asked, it sounded coy and inviting.   
He shrugged and didn't reply. He returned to his desk and commenced   
with his work, dismissing her. She, too, went back to typing, forcing   
herself not to sneak peeks at his strong profile. He wore glasses when   
he worked. They were with invisible frames that left the intellectual   
sexiness of a playboy rather than a CEO.   
She stared at her screen in astonishment, livid with herself at   
where her thoughts were leading. Never, ever, had she let herself think   
such thoughts about a man. And why now, with him?   
"Mr. McDermott?" Margarie's scratchy voice came through hours later   
and Darien pressed a button to answer her. She continued, "A Mr. Sameer   
Singh is on hold to start your conference."   
Darien grinned broadly, oblivious to Serena's constricted throat   
and open mouth. She sat still for a few seconds, her mouth moving   
uselessly like that of a fish's. Darien was about to answer to put him   
through when Serena slapped his hand of the intercom.   
"Don't answer that call," she hissed, her blue eyes showing a   
desperation Darien had never seen before in anyone.   
"What? Are you mad, Serena? This is the entire foundation of your   
job!" He looked up at her flushed face, flabbergasted at the panic he   
saw there. "I wouldn't need you here if I didn't take this call!"   
She looked down at her small, pale hand lying over his own tan one.   
Snatching it away, she stared at him. "It can't be a video conference.   
I—I won't do a video conference."   
He narrowed his shrewd eyes as his mind worked overtime to figure   
out the living enigma in front of him.   
She swallowed harshly, afraid he would deny her request. "Make it a   
phone conference or I walk."   
Deciding to dig deeper into the matter later, he nodded and filled   
in his request to Margarie, never taking his eyes off of her relieved   
face.   
The next few moments where ones Serena valued. They gave her a   
chance to gather her equilibrium and prepare herself to face her   
attacker's father. But rather than collecting her calm, she instead   
found her thoughts drifting back to the horrible day she had naively   
thought justice could be served regardless of bank accounts.   
Ajay Singh, for all his dirty clothes and poor comportment, came   
from one of the richest families in all of India. It was this very same   
lineage that allowed judges and lawyers to look the other way when   
Serena had filed an official compliant. Upon telling her she had no   
case, she had grown infuriated at the court officials, half begging   
half demanding a fair trial.   
But it was no use; there was no proof. The rape kit and pelvic exam   
had accidentally been thrown away, but Serena knew right away that   
someone had been paid to throw it in the incinerator. The Khan family   
had offered to testify that both sisters had been missing for some   
time, but not only was Serena aware that such a testimony would bring   
ruin to the family, she also knew that it was not hard evidence as to   
what happened. Asking the people of the small village, who Serena later   
found out all had jobs under Mr. Sameer Singh, would be laughable.   
Their ears were deaf, their eyes blind, and their mouths dumb when it   
came to their employer's son's antics.   
But of all those despondent realizations, nothing could have   
prepared her for finally meeting with Ajay's father, Sameer. He didn't   
speak one word to her, but he didn't have to. The derisive look he had   
given her had told her volumes. He had known she didn't stand a chance   
of winning because he himself had put that judge on the stand. Hand   
picked and owing his job to the corrupt man, the judge would have   
acquitted Ajay if he had murdered his wife right in front of him. It   
was only her that was not privy to the information that there was no   
way in hell she could have won that fraudulent trial. Serena had   
erroneously assumed the facts would speak for themselves, her bruises   
would tell the truth. She still had the pictures taken of her face,   
arms, legs, waist, and back where Ajay had beaten her.   
But she had been wrong, cruelly so. The judge hadn't waited five   
minutes before pronouncing Ajay free of all charges and giving her a   
stern lecture in front of fifty people about the dangers of crying wolf   
of such a serious charge, especially when accusing a prestigious family   
of committing the malfeasance.   
She hadn't cried.   
She felt the Ajay's eyes burning into her back, willing her to take   
the weak approach and sob until she crumpled into a heap on the floor.   
But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Besides, she couldn't have,   
even if she wanted to weep. There was no sadness in her, no   
despondency. She was cold. Numb. Not even anger could reach her now.   
She had walked out with her head held high, aware of all the faces   
looking at her with a mixture of pity and loathing.   
And she hadn't looked back.   
"Serena?" Darien repeated, wondering where her mind had gone off   
to. "Serena."   
She gave herself a physical start and found herself staring into a   
pair of concerned blue eyes. "Yes? What, oh sorry."   
He gave her a curious look before pressing a series of buttons.   
"We're ready to begin."  



	4. Broken 3

Broken  
Chapter Three  
By Karisma  
Rated: PG-13  
Genre: Alt, Romance  
Karisma456@hotmail.com  
Standard Disclaimers Apply  
July 2001  
  
Okay now, i'm even confused so here it is. Serena is American, from Florida as you will soon discover. Darien is American as well, but his   
empire is located in London with subdivisions just about everywhere. Deal? Okay here goes...  
Serena could have cried. Never had she thought she would have to hear that slightly accented, superior voice again. But here it was, clear   
as ever, coming through the black device on the table between her and Darien. She tried not to think of the last time she had listened to   
that eerie voice, faced that dark, snide look. Luckily, the conference had begun and she was too busy translating and regurgitating facts in   
a deadened monotone.  
Thankfully, the sleazy dastard had not recognized her voice, not that she was surprised. Who knew how many women his lecherous son   
had assaulted and raped. To remember all of them must have been too great a feat. Nonetheless, she had stopped Darien from   
introducing them; that was a risk she didn't want to take, even after seven years. Serena wasn't exactly a common name, in London or   
India.  
He had shot her another curious look, but she ignored it, knowing how enigmatic she must seem. Hopefully, he would write her off as   
strange or bizarre and forget all about her with a few days time.  
She did not know how the thought of ever forgetting her was preposterous to Darien McDermott, who could not take his eyes off the   
befuddling, albeit gorgeous, woman who was currently listening very carefully to the elder man speak, her full lips pursued, as if irritated.  
Darien watched her thoughtlessly tuck a stray strand of silken hair behind her ear. The movement was free of guile, but that did nothing to   
stop the stirring within him. Annoyed by his randy, school boy thoughts, he shook himself mentally when she looked up with those blue   
eyes to repeat the question Mr. Singh had asked of him. He only half listened, though, as his eyes were drawn to the shapely pinks lips   
forming the words. And they were now mouthing his name.  
"Darien. Darien!"  
He shook himself again, physically this time. "Oh. Er, tell him   
allowing GRS to set up establishments in his country is no financial or economic risk on his company whatsoever. We'd be   
working together."  
She nodded her little head and regurgitated the information, speaking rapidly in the foreign tongue. Was it his imagination, or did she   
wince just a bit whenever Sameer talked? And what was her vexation in Sameer knowing her name and seeing her face?  
One thing was for certain: he intended to find out more about her. Every last living thing. Because, he knew instinctively on a feeling he   
could not name, he wouldn't satisfied with anything less.  
Since it had been agreed that their next conference would be held the following day, Serena began to pack up her belongings after the   
three hour exchange was completed. She knew Darien's keen gaze was following her, wanting to dissect her strange behavior into pieces.   
But she strengthened her resolve not to delve any information concerning her personal life. A quick glance at her watch told her it was ten   
o' clock, too late to check in on the happenings at Raye's house. Maybe it was better that way; it occurred to her she was spending   
entirely way too much time at her younger sister's home. Raye was married, with a child hopefully entering the picture soon, it just wasn't   
right that her old maid of a sister drop in frequently to intrude, disrupting their happy home.  
Suddenly depressed, she wondered if that was all she was destined to be: and old maid. Sure, she had quite a few years before that title   
was officially bestowed upon her, but as old and tired as she felt right now, she might as well live alone with fifty cats. The absurd picture   
of her in a rocking chair surrounding by cats was enough to make her smile wryly as she slung her purse on her shoulder.  
The slight play on her lips was not missed by Darien, who had observed her slow movements with the same amount of intensity and acute   
observation he did with anything that captured his interest. And Serena Corday had definitely captured his interest.  
"Aren't you going home?" Her soft voice interrupted his musings and he jerked his head up to meet hers. She shrugged her dark jacket   
over her silk white blouse and tucked loose strands of blonde hair back into that dreadful bun.  
He didn't answer her for a moment and Serena stared at him nervously, his laser sharp stare leaving her without the proverbial leg to   
stand on. Darien stood up from his chair and walked around his large desk, sitting on one corner of it as he viewed her openly.  
Serena was growing edgier by the moment. He was a full yard away, but the overall breadth and height of him was daunting. She licked   
her lips nervously and swallowed, waiting for the reply to her question.  
He cocked his head to one side before finally answering with another question: "Would you like to grab a drink?"  
She sighed heavily inwardly, her hopes that it wouldn't come to this dashed. She forced her tone to be light as she prevaricated. "I wasn't   
aware we had anything to celebrate, Mr. McDermott. You haven't gotten the deal as of yet."  
He frowned at her lack of a direct answer, but it was erased and replaced with a soft smile of his own. "I wasn't thinking along the lines of   
business, Serena."  
There you had it. It didn't get much plainer than that; there was no misconstruing is last remark topped off by those disarmingly hooded   
cobalt eyes.  
"I'm sorry, Mr. McDermott, but I really should be getting home." It wasn't the direct cut she usually gave, the kind that left no room for   
future asking, but she didn't want to get into a war of words with her boss at the present juncture. And she knew even if she had point   
blank told me there was no way she'd ever involve herself with him, he'd persist until he wore her out. Perhaps it was from experience   
(from his insistence that she take the job), but she had a feeling the word 'no' just wasn't in Darien McDermott's vocabulary.  
He took her dismissal of a date in stride. Nodding, he reached for the suit jacket draped over his leather chair and slipped it over his broad   
shoulders. "I'll drive you home," he stated. It wasn't a question and the insolence of his manner only served to annoy Serena.  
"I'm perfectly capable of hailing a cab," she said frostily, crossing her arms over her chest as he stepped over to where she stood.  
"I have no doubt in your abilities to do so," he agreed, his face serious. "But, just to be safe, I'd like to give you a ride home."  
"That isn't necessary."  
"I know."  
"So let's dispose of the entire thing, shall we?"  
"Don't be difficult, Serena." He took her arm and led her out the door,   
turning off the lights as he exited the room. They were soon encased in his Mercedes and Serena warily stared out the window   
the entire ride, making no comments save the sporadic 'hmm' of quiet agreement.  
When he pulled up to her apartment building and insisted on seeing her up, Serena's heart began doing palpitations she didn't know were   
possible. Sliding in her key, she fixed a bright smile on her face and turned to face him. The grin immediately dissolved when she realized   
how close he had stepped up behind her. She had to tilt her head up to face him, he was in such close proximity. It was then she realized   
her heart wasn't beating because she was afraid, it was excited at the prospect of being so close to him! Stunned at the introspective   
realization, she stared up at Darien, half wanting him to leave and half desiring him to say something, anything.  
He never did say anything, but what he did next was the more exciting and dreadful than anything he could have said.  
Darien kissed her.  
It wasn't a fierce, plundering kiss. It was sweet and slow, his lips   
were warm against hers brushing them with the lightest of caresses. Quite a few dates had platonically kissed her after their   
evening out, but none had weakened her with a mere touch. None had awakened her to the point of wanting more. And none   
had looked at her as Darien was doing now, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. He pulled away from her and walked off without   
another word, his steps muffled by the thick carpet.  
Serena fell against the door and stumbled in, her head a whirlwind of confusion. She couldn't be attracted to him, could she? Wasn't that   
just too cliché, falling for your boss? Cliché or not, she had enjoyed that kiss. She put a trembling hand up to her reddened lips and closed   
her eyes, reliving the moment. But the bliss was ephemeral, because she knew there was no chance of a relationship with him happening.   
Not only could she never keep a man like him interested, the turmoil she came with was more trouble than it was worth. And if she did   
manage to snag him for a few months, without her past issues surfacing, he would leave, find someone knew, and she would once again   
take the role of a battered doll, too ragged and beaten to be loved by anyone.  
And it would be a cold day in hell before she let that pathetic feeling of futility wash over her again. She had felt it once, that night in the   
hospital when she was told Raye couldn't have kids. She wouldn't allow herself to feel it again and that meant staying away from Darien.  
He watched her bit her lip in frustration. Narrowing her eyes at the computer screen, she finally received the burst of inspiration she had   
been waiting for as she typed rapidly, the words not appearing on the screen as fast as her thought process commanded. He was used to   
her exceptionally cute idiosyncrasies now, a week later. She wrinkled her nose when she couldn't find the right word to express herself   
with. She bit her lip like she had done just now, when she wanted to flow to another paragraph of her article. And she gave an adorable   
half smile was she was writing the concluding sentence of her column.  
It was sickening for him to know that he was dying with wanting her, but being spurned at every advance. Oh, she was polite and never let   
him feel bad about her rejections, but it irked him to realize there was something about him she didn't find appealing. It irked him even   
more to recognize that he wanted to change whatever it was about him so that she did find him attractive. Never, ever, had a woman have   
him running through hoops in hope of chance with her. And the absurd thing was, she didn't even know it.  
Darien knew an act when he saw one. He had seen woman play about any role they could to get the object of their desire. But Serena   
Corday didn't even realize the turmoil she was wreaking on him. No, with her innocent mannerisms and polite refusals, she had no idea   
how deep his infatuation with her ran.  
"Darien?" Serena asked timidly, slightly put back by the ferocious scowl on his handsome face.  
"What?" He barked, obviously irritated.  
Her blue eyes widened at his tone and he immediately felt like a bully,   
cruel to an innocent little girl. Only she wasn't a girl, he corrected grimly, his eyes raking over her enchanting face and shapely   
figure.  
"I'm sorry, Serena," he amended, forcing a smile. "What is it?"  
She swallowed, still remembering his glower a few seconds back. "My   
mother's in town and I was wondering if I could have an extension on my lunch hour to go see her." That being said, she   
watched for his reaction.  
He waved his hand distractedly. "Go, go."  
She would have smiled at the favor, but his sour mood was a damper on   
the happy goodwill he offered. The past week had left him short tempered and grouchy. She wasn't a fool to think that it had   
nothing to do with her repeated denials in offers to accompany him to dinner, to the movies, to a play.  
Her own attitude toward him had changed. Before she had flared and patronized him, her sharp tongue proving itself to be the reason of   
her loneliness. But somehow, his formidable presence had her subdued, quiet even. It was actually very nice, save his foul mood, to be in   
his company. They both worked quietly until their conferences started, but sometimes, before Darien's agitated state had erupted, they   
would share a joke and laugh. She was beginning to like working in his office. With him. And that scared and pleased her all at the same   
time. Scared her because she could not develop deep feelings for him; pleased her because maybe she was ready to emerge from her   
shell and start anew with the male population.  
She would have asked him up front what was bothering him, but at the last minute she lost her nerve. Nodding, she picked up her purse   
and slipped out the large doors.  
Serena jogged down the stairs, impatient with the elevators. She undid the first button of her silk blouse and whipped the ribbon out of her   
hair. Unraveling the austere bun, she shook the waves loose to tumble around her shoulders. Serena pinched her cheeks a few times to   
gain color. Her mother would only be satisfied if her daughter looked happy and alive, not severe and tired.  
She was happy at the prospect of seeing her mother after such an extended period of time. They were meeting for lunch at a local   
restaurant after Mrs. Corday settled into Raye's home. The Khan's had left with a large party, tears and hugs had ensued at the airport,   
along with promises to visit and write and such. Irene Corday lived in Florida and for that Serena was thankful; she loved her mother   
dearly, but they had both needed their space after the attack. Her mother, however kind and understanding she was, could not   
comprehend why Serena couldn't move on if Raye could. They had grown frustrated with each other, with only Raye to keep them   
together. When Serena had accepted a job in London, Raye had gone with her to help her settle in. While on her stay, she had met Chad   
Montgomery and the two had fallen in love.  
If Raye could do it, why couldn't Serena? Her mother had wanted to know.  
She had asked herself the same question. Why couldn't she let herself deal with the intricacy and normalcy of a relationship?  
Serena pushed all these complicated questions with undetermined answers out of her mind as she entered the restaurant, looking for her   
mother's familiar head. When she found it, she smiled and sat across from the older woman, happy to see her looking healthy and elegant   
as ever.  
"Hello, Mother," she greeted, placing her purse next to her.  
"Serena, darling!" Irene let her eyes look over her elder daughter's   
flushed cheeks and windblown hair. "You look wonderful," she stated honestly.  
"As do you." Serena knew her mother had aged elegantly, with her coiffed hair and stern posture, Mrs. Corday was as trim and attractive   
as she had been fifteen years ago.  
When her husband had passed away, Irene had refrained from marrying again, despite the many offers. She had loved Kenneth Dalton   
dearly, preserving his memory through Serena had been her ideal goal. It wasn't until two years after his fatal heart attack, when Serena   
was eight, when Irene dared to start dating again. On a trip to Florida, she had met an American and had been immediately taken with   
him. She opted not to return to London when he proposed marriage.  
At the point she was introduced to Richard Corday he had a child of six years. They had married after a period of time and Richard had   
gladly adopted Serena as his own, giving her much more than his name when he stepped into his role as a father. Serena and Raye had   
never felt anything less than a normal family growing up in Tallahassee, Florida. Although they were not related, the two only children had   
clung to each other for companionship and grew to be the best of friends.  
"Raye and Chad look positively radiant with the prospect of a new baby on the horizon," her mother added unnecessarily, ordering her   
meal with a nonchalance that had Serena wary.  
"Yes," she agreed slowly. "They are very happy."  
"You could be too, Serena."  
There it was. Serena sighed and nodded. "I know, Mother."  
Irene did not miss the exasperated look her daughter had in her blue   
eyes that were similar to her own. "I just want you to be happy, Serena."   
Irene defended, her pink mouth pursing with concern.  
"Maybe I am already."  
Irene eyed her daughter critically. When was the last time she had seen   
her youthful face light up? When was the last time her blue eyes had glowed like they did when she was a child? She sighed   
when she realized she couldn't remember such an event. Now her pretty face was shiny, free of makeup. She could make out   
the tell tale signs of fatigue and restlessness. Her daughter wasn't content, not be a long shot.  
"Maybe." The words were conceding, but the tone was anything but. It was doubtful and Serena knew it as she saw her mother's knowing   
stare.  
Serena put down her fork with a quiet ping. She leveled her mother with a intent gaze as she finally spoke, "Why must I be married in   
order to be happy?"  
"Who said anything about getting married? I'd be happy with dates once in a blue moon!" Irene saw her daughter's face crumple and she   
immediately regretted her glib words. "I'm sorry, Serena. I know you aren't ready yet."  
At that Serena grew self-protective. "Who says I'm not ready? Perhaps I just don't care for masculine company."  
Irene sent her a look that blew that theory out of the water. Serena sighed.  
"Serena," Irene began gently, covering Serena's soft hand with her own.   
"I just to see you be happy again—like Raye is."  
She bristled, her back suddenly taut. She snatched her hand from under that of her mother's. "Because if Raye can do it after   
the ordeal she went through, I should be able to as well, isn't that right?"  
Irene closed her eyes and sighed. "I didn't say that, Serena."  
"You didn't have to," she spat out bitterly, staring down into her   
water glass with such intensity that Irene was sure it would melt.  
Irene watched her daughter, her heart twisted in the torment and agony her child was going through. As a mother, it hurt more   
than anything to see her child go through pain that she was helpless to ease. Serena had believed everyone thought Raye had   
been the one to suffer the most, being raped. Physically abused with her innocence intact, Serena believed she had gotten off   
lucky. Therefore, she went through college and life thinking with immense guilt that she had been the fortunate one. Irene   
knew it wasn't the case. It was Serena that had been forced to watch her sister be plundered by her attackers; Raye had passed   
out with fright. That wasn't to say Raye had escaped lightly, far from it. But Serena inherently felt responsible for her younger   
sister, and feelings of blame and guilt were piled on top of the anguish she already suffered from.  
So Irene had known from the start that it would take Serena longer to recover. Raye knew what had happened to her, what had been   
taken from her. But she consciously didn't remember any bit of it—the attack or the pain after. The news of being unable to bear children   
had hurt her, but she had recovered optimistically, finding Chad helped drastically.  
But Serena had refused to talk about it, Irene had not witnessed her daughter shed one cleansing tear. Rather, she had opted to face life   
with a mask of indifference, pretending not to care when she had been denied by lawyers unwilling to take the case. She had given off the   
pretense of being perfectly fine, but all one had to do was see the former Serena: smiling, laughing, loving life, to see the empty shell this   
Serena become. Irene had hoped with time, and maybe the help of a man, Serena would come back. Her Serena. The young woman who   
had left for India with immense hope and joy for the future.  
She snapped back to the conversation at hand, hoping that maybe this time she would say something to strike and break the shell. "I   
heard you met a man."  
Serena looked up, startled. "A man?"  
"Yes, Raye told me his name was Darien something or other. Tall, dark   
and handsome." Irene's glittering blue eyes sparkled as she lifted her golden brows in an unspoken question.  
"I work for him, Mother. As a translator." She hoped she had effectively squashed any ideas of romance her mother was formulating.  
But Irene could not be deterred so easily. "Mm-hmm, I see. Well, flirt a little." She said it with such nonchalance, as if she was speaking of   
the weather, Serena stared up at her dumbfounded. "What?"  
"Mother!" Serena hissed. "He's my boss!"  
"It's not as if it's illegal, sweetheart." Irene sipped her soup,   
dabbing her mouth after she was done. "Besides, something more may come of it." She winked quickly.  
Serena did not crack a smile. "Like marriage?" She guessed. Irene shrugged, careful to not voice her suggestions. "Well, erase any sort of   
notion from your mind. Darien McDermott is not the type you marry."  
"So don't marry him," Irene breezed, waving a manicured hand in the air.   
"It isn't a crime to have a fling, you know."  
"Mother!" Serena exclaimed, instinctively looking around to see if anyone had heard the offending remark. "How can you say   
such a thing?"  
"Serena," her mother began gently, "maybe it'd be good for you. Sow some wild oats."  
"I'm a twenty-four woman, not some ribald teenage male."  
"Have a bit of fun in your life."  
"I don't need Darien to have fun in my life!" This was getting much to   
uncomfortable, especially considering Darien's recent proposals of after work activities. "Besides," she continued smartly. "I   
don't know if he fancies me in the least!"  
"Serena, don't lie to your mother! It's a sin. Raye knows all about the way Darien has been after you."  
Serena jerked her head up; she hadn't told Raye anything about Darien asking her out. Either Darien had been dropping surprise visits at   
her sister's house, or her mother was bluffing wonderfully. She choose the later. "Raye has said no such thing," she said calmly, pouring   
herself some tea.  
"Oh, all right," her mother huffed. "It was a educated guess. The man would have to be blind not to be attracted to you. Serena, you're a   
beautiful, young woman." She eyed the younger woman's formal skirt and blouse critically. "Though one couldn't tell by the way you dress.   
Are you going to a funeral later today?"  
Serena rolled her eyes at the diatribe. "Mother," she said warningly.  
"All right, all right. Enough." Irene smiled at Serena and her daughter   
returned it warmly. Each was quietly reveling in the presence of each other, happy to be back in the other's company. It was   
their way, their silent communication that brought Serena up from her seat to kiss her mother's soft cheek.  
"Good-bye, Mother." She said fondly before leaving the restaurant, a serene half smile on her face.  



	5. Broken 4

Broken  
Chapter Four  
By Karisma  
Rated: PG-13  
Genre: Alt, Romance  
Karisma456@hotmail.com  
Standard Disclaimers Apply  
August 2001  
  
Darien watched with unconcealed fascination as the gorgeous woman   
stepped into his office and walked over to where her laptop sat. His blue   
eyes grew hooded as they lit over her mass of blonde waves, her flushed   
cheeks, and the two unbuttoned parts of her crème colored blouse. His   
expression was appreciative and frank as it appraised her various   
attributes.  
It was the same stare that had Serena confused until she caught a   
glimpse of herself in the small mirror above his mini bar across the room.   
She silently gasped at the picture she made: her hair was a riotous mess,   
her cheeks were pink, and her blouse was in a state of utter disrepute.   
Casually, to appear as if her appearance was nothing out of the norm, she   
fastened the buttons. The next step was for her hair, but when she had   
pulled out the black ribbon that normally kept it secured behind her, Darien   
was there first, snatching the ribbon out of her hand with an agility that   
scared her.  
She spun around to nearly collide into his broad chest. Stumbling back a   
few steps away from him, she blinked rapidly. After a few moments, she held   
out her hand palm up. She injected as much control as she could into her   
voice. "Could I have my ribbon back, please?"  
"No," it was unequivocal and the bluntness of it sent her eyes up to   
collide with his firm ones. She waited, dumbstruck and he continued gently,   
"You're not ninety, Serena. You don't have to hide your youth and beauty."  
"I'm not hiding anything," she snapped sourly, stepping forward, her   
hand still outstretched. He took it, but for an entirely different purpose.   
He led her over to the mirror, forcing her to look at the young woman   
reflected back at her.  
"Like hell you're not hiding. Look at you, Serena." His voice turned   
husky. "Look at you." Their eyes met in the mirror and she gulped, afraid of   
what was happening to her heart, her mind, her body. He gently placed his   
index finger over the triangle at the base of her throat. His finger brushed   
against the soft skin, making her shiver involuntarily. "Where did you get   
this scar?" It was the same soft tone that made her more nervous than his   
dour moods.  
The scar. Nestled in the hollow of her throat was a small white line   
that was caused by a deep cut Ajay's ring had made when he landed her a blow   
that sent her head reeling back, nearly breaking her jaw. The painful memory   
was enough to jar her into the real world. She broke away from his touch and   
tried to move away, but just as she thought he would let her by, his hand   
snatched out to grab her wrist and pull her back to him.  
Panic erupted in her as he put his arms around her, effectively   
confining her between the wall where the mirror was placed and his hard   
body. "Please let me go," she whispered, trying to suppress the fear that   
was ebbing within her.  
He smiled very gently, his blue eyes crinkling in the corners. Then he   
lowered his head to kiss her in a soft, slow way that reminded her of the   
night by the door of her apartment building. Without any direct message from   
her mind, her arms rose up to wind themselves around his neck. Fear was   
gone, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of need. She only stiffened when he   
deepened the kiss and as if sensing her hesitation, he obliging went back to   
the soft brushing of his lips against hers.  
But soon it wasn't enough and with slow deliberation that required no   
thinking from her brain, she parted her lips and heard his quiet groan as he   
accepted the offering and mingled his tongue with her own. The instant she   
felt his tongue in her, Serena felt a jolt to her system that was   
terrifyingly new. She had been kissed before, but never had she wanted it to   
go on. Never had she wanted to forget time and stay like this forever, wound   
in the protective embrace of…  
Darien!  
She gasped lightly and pushed the heels of her hands against his chest.   
Shoving him away, she raised her shaking hand to her bruised lips, wondering   
if they were as red and swollen as they felt. She didn't dare bring her gaze   
up to his heavy lidded one.  
"I'm sorry, I—" She started to apologize, make excuses for why what   
happened took place.  
"I'm not," he interjected smoothly and Serena couldn't bring herself to   
look up at his un doubt satisfied and calm face. Did the man ever get   
flustered?  
"We'll just forget all about it."  
"I dare you to even try." His challenging tone brought Serena's head   
jerking up against her will. She met smiling eyes that revealed he was   
entirely too sure of himself.  
She was more firm in her next response. "We'll pretend it never   
happened."  
"Impossible."  
He was right on that part; Serena thought she'd never forget the way   
his lips burned into hers. "It'll never happen again," she averred.  
"Like hell."  
Did he have an answer for everything? Serena thought, frustrated beyond   
belief. "If it does, I'll leave," she threatened, crossing her arms over her   
chest in what could only be construed as a protective stance.  
His voice changed, no longer was it challenging. It was now soft,   
mocking even. "Liar."  
Serena parted her mouth and no sound came out. She had met her match;   
never had she not been without the last word and yet her she was, open   
mouthed with a blank slate for a mind. She shook her head ruefully, forcing   
her lips to form a parody of a smile. "Good-bye, Mr. McDermott." She   
gathered up the coat she had draped over the back of the couch and headed   
toward the door, her blonde hair shimmering under the bright light above   
them.  
"Wait." His voice stopped her. It wasn't a request, it was a command   
and she instinctively followed it. But she did not turn around as she   
remained frozen. "Have dinner with me tonight."  
She opened her mouth to rattle off one of the polite rejections she had   
been accustomed to spewing for the past seven years, but something halted   
her. She thought back to her mother and what she had said during their lunch   
conversation. Perhaps it was time she became a part of the living again. And   
one measly dinner couldn't do much harm, could it? If Darien had wanted to   
come onto her by force, he had had plenty of opportunities in the past week   
where they had been working alone in the office together.  
In light of all of this, when she tilted only her head to look over at   
him and smile, her response was completely justified. "Maybe some other   
night, Darien," she said quietly, her voice sincere.  
Darien nodded, taking the reply as the yes it meant. His face was   
expressionless as she allowed him one more tiny smile and exited. His   
appearance was one of stoic calm until he sat behind his desk and whirled   
around to face the effect the bright afternoon sunshine had on the world   
below. But his eyes saw none of the sparkling beauty below him, for his   
thoughts were already days ahead to that long awaited night, a slow smile   
creeping its way to the corners of his firm mouth.  
****  
Darien waited impatiently for Serena to return from the bathroom. He   
had told her their dinner settings would be formal, so she had brought a   
change of clothes. After a stretching time period of fifteen minutes, of   
which he spend the majority of pacing and tapping his foot, she finally   
slipped in through the doors, her back to him as she shut it behind her.  
When she finally turned around, Darien's eyes roved over her figure in   
frank appreciation. His appraisal did not go unnoticed, as Serena soon had a   
faint blush covering her cheeks. The dress was of blue satin that skimmed   
over her hips and fell to the floor in an elegant swirl around her feet. The   
modest neckline and straps would have deemed the dress demure, if it weren't   
for the back, which was bare to the mid-back, save the slim, criss-crossing   
straps.  
She shoved a lock of blonde hair behind her ear only to have the wave   
come back to its original position. Clearing her throat, she stepped closer   
to him, her heels clicking softly against the hard floor. Nervousness filled   
her very being from being in such a revealing gown. Her mother had bought it   
for her some time ago, hoping the beauty of the dress would extract her from   
the austere wardrobe she had settled for. She had never worn it, never even   
thought of wearing it. But suddenly, as Darien's icy blue gaze narrowed   
before he smiled, she was very glad her mother had done such a thing.  
"You look lovely, Serena."  
She wondered for a split second how many times he had practiced that   
very line on other women before it had the raw huskiness it did now.   
Reminding herself that this was dinner and nothing more, she mentally erased   
any notions about even caring in the slightest about his past paramours.  
"Thank you."  
Darien reached for her coat, which was draped over her arm, prepared to   
help her into it, when the phone rang abruptly. He suppressed his groan of   
annoyance and strode over to his desk, picking up the black device with a   
savagery that surprised Serena.  
"Hello?" His voice was gruff and could be interpreted as downright   
rude. "Oh, hello, Mr. Singh." Serena noticed his tone did not get anymore   
polite, even when he realized the VIP he was conversing with. It was   
flattering, knowing that he was peeved at the slightest bit of interruption   
from their evening together.  
Serena smiled, acknowledging the unspoken compliment. When she looked   
up, she saw Darien grimacing as he listened carefully. And somehow, even   
before Darien hung up the phone and turned to her, she knew.  
"Looks like we're about to have our meeting for the day."  
She nodded, half ecstatic to receive such an excuse out of the nerve   
wracking date, half disappointed not to be able to spend the evening with   
the handsome man in front of her. Serena put her coat down very carefully   
and sat primly on the couch, waiting for the meeting to commence.  
Darien stared at her adjustment to the situation with admiration.   
Rather than complain about the extra hours and the lack of dinner, she   
simply nodded and prepared for it. He smiled at her search for a pen and pad   
of paper to take down notes she might need and walked over to join her on   
the couch.  
She looked up, startled, to see him so close to her. In all of their   
conferences, he had always chosen to sit on the armchair across from her,   
never next to her. She blinked and offered him a half smile at the grin her   
gave her. They might have looked silly, conducting business while they both   
were dressed to the nines, but neither cared as Darien pressed the button to   
include Mr. Singh in on their conversation.  
An hour later had it difficult for Serena to continue talking in her   
clear, cool voice when Darien's hand had found her own and was stroking it.   
The caress may have been idle for him, as he looked at ease while talking,   
but her own heart was having severe problems keeping a normal rhythm as his   
thumb rubbed the smooth skin of her hand.  
When Mr. Singh's excused himself for a moment and his muffled voice was   
angrily conferring with another party, Darien shot her a curious look. She   
shook her head the negative to inform him she couldn't understand what they   
were discussing. When the line cleared and Mr. Singh's voice came through,   
he sounded perturbed to say the least. He uttered a few terse words and then   
the line went dead.  
Serena blinked at the succinct phrase. Turning to Darien, she   
translated slowly, "He said he had to go attend to something, but that he'd   
contact us later on tonight."  
Darien rolled his eyes and his voice was wry when she spoke next. "Or   
tomorrow morning. Mr. Singh isn't too considerate, is he?"  
She had to stop herself from saying the natural words that almost   
slipped out, "He never was." Thankful that she caught herself in time, she   
stood up and said instead, "Well, I suppose I had better change."  
He looked down at her physique and was about to voice how he vastly   
preferred this article of clothing opposed to the grave style she usually   
donned, when she hurriedly continued, backing out of his office. "Come get   
me if he calls, all right?"  
He was tempted to get her regardless of whether or not the bothersome   
Sameer called. But he said nothing as she exited once again, the cloud of   
dark blue slipping out the door.  
When she came back, Darien almost groaned at the sight of her pleated   
blouse and soft, loose dress pants. Repeatedly wishing there was some excuse   
he could give that made it mandatory for her to get back in that appealing   
dress, he smiled at her as she shyly stepped forward, timidly coming back to   
the previous spot she had just vacated.  
"So," she said cautiously, "Do you have any work to do while we wait?"  
Darien looked at the pile of work he had planned to accomplish tomorrow   
and for the first time, had no desire whatsoever to complete it ahead of   
schedule. Realizing he would much rather sit and enjoy her company, he   
grinned and replied, "No, actually, I don't."  
"Oh." She looked down at her clasped hands in her lap.  
They were quiet for a few moments, until Darien spied of a deck of   
cards Ken had left there from his morning game of solitaire while he waited   
for Darien to finish his chart reviews so he could talk to him. Thankful for   
his friends forgetfulness, Darien whipped the cards out and shuffled them,   
not moving his gaze from Serena's confused one while he did so.  
"Darien, what—"  
"Go fish," he interrupted, pushing her cards to her. He waited until   
she was done staring at him in bewilderment and scooted over to brace her   
back against the armrest before he said, "Seven."  
Serena propped her stocking-clad feet beneath her as she stared at him   
with narrowed eyes. Reluctantly handing him the card, he snatched it from   
her with a satisfied smirk.  
****  
"You're a cheater!" She accused forty-five minutes and twelve   
consecutive losses for her later.  
"You're a sore loser," he shot back, collecting the small pile of loose   
change they had scrounged up to bet with.  
She threw her remaining cards at him in a mock attempt to show her   
anger. She gathered the cards and dealt, throwing him suspicious looks all   
the while.  
"You, my dear, are just jealous of my superior skills." He buffed his   
nails on his shirt and Serena rolled her eyes.  
"Poker," she announced, changing their game to one she might be able to   
win.  
"Strip?" He suggested.  
Serena grew frightfully pale before flushing and lightly bantering   
back, "I would, but since I have no desire to see you down to your skivvies,   
I'm going to have to decline."  
"That's awfully strange, Serena," his voice did a hundred and eighty   
degree turn from humorous to husky. "Because I, for one, can't wait to see   
you in your skivvies."  
Serena blinked and backed further into her corner of the couch.   
Clearing her throat nervously, she held up her cards and stared at them   
intently, trying to ignore Darien's prying eyes.  
They played for a while, Serena collected back the coins she had lost   
from a protesting Darien, until she grew tired and yawned. Darien patted her   
ankle and allowed her to stretch on the couch. She mumbled something about   
what he would do since Sameer hadn't called, but he insisted she rest and   
soon she was asleep.  
Darien fixed himself a drink and took the glass over to where the   
curtains were drawn. Pulling back the heavy draperies only a bit, he allowed   
himself to sip absently while he stared down at the twinkling lights of   
London. One hand shoved into the side pocket of his wheat colored slacks, he   
indulged himself in thinking about the young woman sleeping not ten yards   
away from him.  
She was a conundrum, laughing and at ease one moment, tense and afraid   
the next. He had seen enough of her to know without a shadow of a doubt that   
this was real; this was the real Serena Corday. She was shy, elusive, sweet.   
She was biting, edgy, and with dry humor She was everything. And that upset   
him. It was incredibly aggravating knowing with each passing day he was   
getting more and more intrigued by her, but those same days brought him   
closer to the moment where he wouldn't see her expressive face every   
morning. Infatuation, he acknowledged dryly, was not all it was cracked up   
to be. It was hell; it was annoying; it was irritating.  
But somehow, whenever she gave him that half smile and ducked her head   
in that adorable way, it made all the unbearable moments seem livable. In   
fact, those little quirks of her mouth made the highlight of his day. He   
knew, from experience, what the effect of them was.  
A few days ago, he had received the quelling news that one of his   
communication centers in France had been ransacked. The cost of repairs and   
lost time was enough to send him into a particularly terrifying mood. But   
Serena had acknowledged his dour expression with a quirky grin of her own   
and cracked awful jokes until he had been no proof against her infectious   
laugh. In a half hour's time, France and money and time was the last thing   
on his mind. Only the special way her eyes glittered when her lips parted   
back to beam up at him and show a small, even row of white teeth occupied   
his mind. She was drugging, addicting, and utterly dangerous.  
And he had only kissed her twice.  
And he wanted more.  
Against his will, his head turned back to gaze at her peaceful face   
with an unconsciously fond smile. His soft grin soon wilted as he saw   
Serena's brow furrow in agitation. He took a few steps closer to her only to   
hear her breathing turn harsh as she gasped softly. He thought he saw   
perspiration lining her face before he stepped even closer to see it was not   
sweat that shined her face, but tears.  
Two dark brows knitted together as he leaned down next to her, close   
enough to hear exactly what it was that she was moaning. It was a hushed   
whisper as a few more tears ran down her smooth cheeks: "Please don't.   
Please."  
The obvious question that popped to Darien's mind was don't do what. It   
was answered almost immediately as Serena rocked back and forth, clasping   
her arms about her protectively, her face wincing as if she was receiving   
harsh blows. "No, I won't let you." It was then her arms flew out, not to   
protect herself, but to lash out at her dream attacker.  
Darien received the blows and warded off the small fists easily. He   
shook her lightly to wake up and when it was apparent she wasn't going to,   
he manacled her wrists together and spoke. "Serena, wake up."  
She grunted and began to use her legs to fight him. It was obvious   
Darien had become the attacker to her; she seemed to be in a state where   
reality and dreams had meshed into one, incoherent mess. It took a great   
deal of struggling, but Darien had managed to lean over her, pining her   
fighting body with his own.  
After a while, it seemed as if she had given up the fight in her   
nightmare. She went limp in his arms, tears rolling down faster than he   
could try to brush away. Her breathing was ragged and uneven, his lips   
slightly parted to gasp air in between silent sobs. She looked lost, broken;   
as if all the energy was drained from her.  
But suddenly she jerked upright, taking Darien by surprise as the force   
of her movement knocked them both down to the carpeted floor beneath them.   
Her hands flew to her face as she curled into a small ball, shaking   
uncontrollably. "No," she whispered wretchedly. "No, no, no."  
Darien rolled over onto his back, dazed for a brief moment before   
Serena's hushed murmurs brought him to her side. He lightly touched her   
back, rubbing gently in what he hoped was a soothing motion. This was a   
first for him, comforting someone, especially a woman. Never had he tried   
to. More importantly, never had he wanted to.  
"Shhh," he crooned near her ear, slowly turning her over in his arms to   
embrace her. She immediately saw this attempt at close contact as a threat   
and reared back, her arms flung forward to ward him off. Her blows were   
entirely too damaging this time and it took Darien twice as much time to   
detain her this time. Finally, he managed to shackle her wrists and pin them   
above her head with one of his much larger hands. "Serena!" He barked, his   
voice intentionally harsh and demanding.  
She was jarred awake and opened her blue, teary eyes to look up at him.   
His voice and expression softened at the vulnerable look her pale face had   
in the dim light. Blonde wisps of her silken hair had gotten caught in her   
long eyelashes and Darien lifted his free hand to gently push the wayward   
hairs back behind her ears. She didn't flinch like the other times he had   
touched her when she was unaware and he took immense pleasure in that fact.   
She simply continued to look up at him, her eyes large and unwavering,   
gazing up with an intense amount of trust and wariness.  
"Darien?" She finally croaked, her voice thick, partially from sleep   
and somewhat from their intimate position.  
The husky undertones of her voice mixed with her beguiling eyes was his   
undoing. They both realized their situation at the same time. Serena was   
under him, her arms raised above her head, leaving her slim body   
susceptible. Darien's tall frame was stretched half next to her, half over   
her. Every inch of their bodies was familiar to the other as their figures   
were closely molded.  
He searched her wet eyes for a second before groaning and leaning down   
to catch her mouth. He surprised himself with his gentleness as his lips   
brushed against her warm ones. He listened as her breath was caught in her   
throat, making a gravelly, yet soft sound that was an aphrodisiac in itself.  
Neither of them knew how long they remained on the thick carpet,   
holding each other as if their lives depended on it, but at one point   
kissing wasn't enough any more. Serena knew it too and broke away from him,   
afraid of where this was leading. Darien noticed the absence of her warm   
body with him and bent his head to catch her eyes. She bit her lower lip   
anxiously as he smiled reassuringly at her and made a move to pull her to   
him again.  
She shook her head rapidly and scooted away, her back pressed painfully   
against the foot of the couch. He saw her frightened face and frowned in   
confusion and worry. She took the face the mean he was angry and her lip   
trembled as she tried to sit up, all the while darting him nervous looks.  
When his long arm reached out to pull her back down, she had to bite   
down a scream. "Shh," he mollified once again, his embrace tender as he   
wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into the safe cocoon of his hug. "I   
just want to hold you," he explained, his warm breath stirring the hair at   
her temple. Her back was against his solid chest and she sighed, letting her   
body relax. Soon Darien heard the even sounds of her sleeping peacefully.   
Then, and only then, did he allow himself to succumb to the restless doze   
that had him thinking of and discarding different elucidations for her   
obvious fright of him.  
  
  
  
_________________________________________________________________  
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	6. Broken 5

Broken

Broken

Chapter Five

By Karisma

Rated: PG-13

Genre: Alt, Romance

[Karisma456@hotmail.com][1]

Standardf Disclaimers Apply

September 2001

Serena woke up after two hours of the best sleep she had ever received feeling groggy, but content. When she looked around, she realized she was on a carpet and not her bed, and that it was completely dark outside. Almost immediately she realized where she was. Trying unsuccessfully to bring her wrist up to her face so she could check the time, she jumped when she heard a deep voice cut in: "It's three a.m."

Her eyes jerked upward from her sitting up position on the floor to travel more than six feet up to look at his obscure figure. "Oh," was all she could manage to say with her suddenly dry mouth. In an excuse to get off the floor and distract herself, she walked over to the mini bar and poured herself a glass of mineral water. She drank the cool liquid gratefully, her mind reviewing their passionate scene on the floor two hours ago. Was he angry? She hoped not. He didn't seem to be when he voiced his request to simply hold her. In fact, he had sounded surprisingly and amazingly gentle.

When she gathered her courage to take her water back to the armchair, she breathed in deeply and turned on her foot. She had not so much as passed Darien's body to sit down on a chair when his hand extracted the glass, put it down on the coffee table, and led her to couch. She sat down as far away from him as she could and braved looking up at him inquiringly.

It was easier to remember him banteringly lightly with her hours ago when they had played card games and laughed. There was only a heady, intoxicating feeling when she thought of their ardent embrace and fervent kisses.

"Serena," he began gently, taking her hand in his own to stroke it encouragingly. "Do you remember a dream you had earlier tonight?"

"A dream?" Her voice was stuck her in her throat and she had a sick feeling of where this was going.

"More of a nightmare, from what I could tell," he said wryly, smiling compassionately at her.

Oh, God. Not in front of him. She couldn't have dreamed it in front of him. The nightmares had started two weeks after the initial attack; each was the same. She would relive it; the entire ordeal and nothing could wake her up until the entirety of the ugly moment was relived in her mind. Only then would she open her eyes, her pillows and blankets tossed on the floor in her battle to once again escape the blows, the beating.

Her mother would often tell her the horror of watching her go through the nightmare. She would fight as she had done that day, she would say the words she had said, she would cry as she had then. The entire scene was terrifying for Irene, watching her daughter scream and cry as if she was possessed. Serena had been ashamed of them and the way they had made her admit to her fear. Who was she to want pity from a mother who needed to save it for her sister? She didn't deserve her mother's efforts of comfort. They should have all gone to Raye. Raye. Who needed them because it was her who had taken the worst blow anyone could ever receive.

They had stopped coming so frequently and now only once in a blue moon would they invade the dark recesses of her mind, forcing her to experience again the brutality of that day.

Perhaps it was sick retribution. Maybe it was her punishment for what happened to Raye. Maybe it was fate's way of giving her the lot she earned when she had let them desecrate her sister's body.

But now, as she stared into Darien's seemingly pitying eyes, she couldn't believe she had done the whole length of the show and dance, so to speak, right in front of his shrewd eyes. Mortification filled her as she tore her eyes away, willing humiliating tears to burn right out of her. She couldn't cry, not now, not with him right there.

He could tell from her wet eyes that she knew exactly what he was referring to. And the memory of whatever she had dreamed of was too painful, even for a strong woman like her. "Want to tell me about it?" He asked, his voice soft.

"No." It was jagged and breathless.

"I'm here, Serena. If you want to talk to me about it."

"I—I can't," she whispered achingly and brought a fist to her mouth to 

suppress the sobs that were wracking through her.

He nodded and reached over to rub her shoulder reassuringly. When she saw the movement out of her peripheral vision, she jerked away from him, nearly tumbling over the arm rest of the sofa. His face darkened in concern, but Serena only saw the frown that marred his impeccable features.

"I'm sorry," she said hoarsely, forcing herself to calm down, reassuring herself he would bring no harm to her.

He dismissed it with a shake of his head and got up, distancing himself from her shaking body. Serena got the distinct impression that he was hurt by her apparent fright of him. It wasn't him, she wish she could vocalize her reassurances that it wasn't him personally she was jumpy with, but she knew that that was impossible. But the notion that he was hurt was absurd; 

Darien McDermott, one of the richest and most powerful men in all of London, could not be pained by one woman's reaction toward him.

She was scared. Of what, Darien did not know. Deep in his bone, he knew it couldn't have been him. Nobody could respond with such ardency to his embrace and be afraid of him. Just by glancing at her bloodless lips, pale face, and trembling figure, anyone could tell Serena was terrified.And as he snuck a peek back at her stiff posture on the couch, he vowed to find out exactly what made her so.

****

Serena lathered the shampoo into her hair, reveling in the feeling of cleanliness as a fragrant smell filled the shower. She sighed contently, opting to forget the dismal events of the previous night/this morning. Things would never be the same, she knew that much. The dream and the horrific violence of it would always be between them, hanging in the air silently even if neither of them voiced it. So, the obvious choice was clear.

She would have to quit.

Serena bit her lip at the ambivalent feelings that rose within her as 

she realized the decision she had made. She knew this was best, for her 

anyway. But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel as if this was a 

wonderful opportunity she was letting slip, as if this was her chance at 

something wonderful and she was allowing it to drift off…

Shaking the mundanely romantic notions out of her head, she dressed quickly and hailed a cab over to Darien's house, eager to place her notice in his hand immediately. When she had left him, he was at the office. Perhaps she would not have to hand it to him in person. Maybe she could leave it for him with a short message. The thought of avoided a confrontation appealed to her because she knew if Darien talked to her for ten minutes, he could persuade her to remain.

As she pulled up into the expansive driveway, having to first go through the gates, the massive house was another reminder of just how well off Darien was. How on earth he could inhabit this gargantuan house all by himself and the hired help?

She shook her head ruefully and rung the doorbell, admiring the distorted glass and large framework when the door swung open. Serena had to look down to see who had allowed her entry and found herself staring into a pair of blue-green eyes.

Her initial thought was that this seven year old was Darien's child and that Darien himself was married. But upon calming down, she realized that Darien didn't have to still be married to have custody of the adorable child. She cleared her throat and smiled down at the curious little face.

"Is your father home?" She asked carefully.

"Why would my Daddy be here? He doesn't live here." The cherub face 

looked up at her as if she was galactically stupid, her pink cheeks moving in the action of chewing a candy bar.

"Oh, I see." Serena blinked and tried again, "Well, is a Mr. McDermott here?"

Again the tiny face gave her an odd look. "You mean Uncle Darien?" When Serena nodded, she continued. "He's not here."

"When do you expect him back?"

The girl shrugged, "Dunno."

"Do you mean to tell me you're home by yourself?" Serena's brow 

furrowed in agitation.

The girl looked perturbed at being intimated as a child who could not possibly take care of herself. "No, Ann's here and Allan is around somewhere."

When Serena gave her a blank look, the child explained, "Ann's the cook and Allan's our butler."

Serena noticed she said "our" and not "Darien's" butler. She nodded and asked quietly. "Do you live here with your uncle?"

The child's face grew guarded as she shrugged. "I stay here a lot when my parents can't take care of me."

"Oh." Serena's heart went out to the poor girl who was obviously neglected by her own parents. Her heart grew warm when she realized what a kind thing Darien was doing to shelter the child while her parents were unavailable. "What's your name?"

"What's your name," the child returned, her chin jutting out stubbornly.

Serena resisted the temptation to smile. "Serena Corday," she said solemnly.

"Christina McDermott," she informed her with mutual somberness.

"Well, Rina," Serena warmly used an endearment with the child and saw 

with pleasure Rina's face grow warm with a gap-toothed smile. "If you would be so kind as to give this envelope to your uncle when he arrives home, I would be greatly indebted."

Rina appraised Serena with a shrewd eye, her keen gaze traveling the length of the older woman. "Uncle Darien says if you want something done right, you should do it yourself. Never send someone else to do a job you yourself should do."

"Well, under normal circumstances I'd be inclined to agree with him," Serena said smoothly, surprised by the perceptiveness of the small child. "But just this once I think we can allow an exception." She smiled brilliantly as the young girl took the yellow folder from her hand. "Good-bye, Rina. Maybe we shall meet again.

"Wait!" Rina cried out, somewhat desperately. Serena turned, surprised by the tone of her voice. "You said something about doing me a favor."

Serena nodded slowly. "Yes, I did."

"Well, I'll give Uncle Darien the package if you play DDR with me."

She frowned, "DDR?"

"It's a video game; it'll be fun." Rina had already snatched Serena' s 

slim wrist and was pulling her into the large hallway with surprising strength for a seven year old.

"I'm afraid I don't really have a knack for such—"

Rina impatiently interrupted. "It's not like most video games, it's 

kinda like dancing. Get it? DDR: Dance Dance Revolution." They approached a large television screen that was currently gray with a row of options listed down the right side. On the hardwood floor in front of the television were two multi-colored pads, each with four arrows on them.

Rina jumped to the center position on one of the pads and said, "Watch," before starting a fast paced song. Pretty soon, Rina was following arrows that popped on the screen with her own feet, jumping and dancing and skipping across the pad to catch all the arrows.

Serena laughed in delight until the energetic girl was finished. Rina turned to her when the song died down and smiled, her breath slightly ragged. Grinning broadly with her pink cheeks, she signaled Serena to come over and join her.

"Oh, no!" Serena laughed. "There is no way I could possibly do that!"

Rina frowned. "You promised."

Serena sighed and offered a soft smile. "So I did." She walked over and 

slipped off her white sneakers.

Rina eyed them as she neatly placed them by a table. "How do you keep them so clean?"

"Pardon?"

"Your shoes, how do you keep them so clean?"

"Oh," she laughed. "Well, I suppose I don't wear them all that much."

Rina eyed her carefully. "How old are you?" She asked abruptly, titling 

her small face to the side, her black ponytail swinging.

Serena nearly laughed out loud at the child's innate sense of boldness. 

"How old are you?" She countered.

"I asked you first."

She couldn't argue with logic like that. "Twenty-four."

"Seven." Rina whistled. "Wow, you're old." She shook her head in 

dismay. "I'm sorry."

Serena bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling and nodded, accepting the commiserations. She stepped onto the center of the pad and waited for the music to begin.

Twenty minutes later had them out of breath and still dancing like crazy, their twin ponytails flying as the jumped madly to catch the arrows as they came. The song ended and the jumped up and down, high fiveing each other gleefully as they received their rather high score.

"You're good at this," Rina said with admiration. Her tone made it clear she did not think a woman of her old age could keep up.

"Well," Serena said modestly, "I learn from the best." She adjusted the waistband of her blue jeans and tucked her black tee shirt in.

Rina saw the movement with curious eyes and suddenly brightened. "I have a belt just like that. I'm gonna put it on, I'll be right back!" She ran off, bounding up the stairs to her room.

Serena smiled with pleasure as she looked down at her black belt with a silver buckle. It was poignantly sweet that in such a short time, Rina had started to look at her as a role model, wanting to emulate her. She sighed and looked at the television screen. Feeing childish but not caring, she started up a new song and was dancing to it when she heard a voice droll behind her.

"Having fun?"

"Oh!" She gasped and nearly lost her footing. She whipped around, 

missing quite a few arrows and effectively dropping her score down drastically. She faced Darien with pink cheeks and a breathless voice.

Darien stared at her in wry amusement, taking in her appearance in jeans. The exertion had made her hair loose and a few short strands had fallen from her ponytail, framing her flushed face.

"I—well, I—" She started to explain her reason for being there and playing a child's game, but the words failed her as she finally closed her mouth and stared back at him.

Luckily, Rina bounced down the stairs, sporting her belt with pride. "Hiya, Uncle Darien. Serena! What happened to your score?" Rina looked appalled at the sight of her rapidly diminishing tally.

"I'm sorry, Rina. Your uncle, ah, distracted me."

Darien's eyebrow cocked up at the affectionate nickname and she flushed 

deeper.

"Uncle Dar-ien!" Rina whined and pulled a face when Darien rumpled her hair.

"Sorry, squirt. But I was pretty distracted too."

The words were directed at Rina, but his eyes never left Serena's. She 

blushed at the way he looked her up and down and gave his approval of her casual attire.

"Oh!" Rina exclaimed, inching toward the counter where she had left Serena's folder. "Serena came to give you this."

"No!" Serena lunged for it and intercepted its coming to Darien. She received strange looks from both parties as she clutched it to her chest. There was no way she could stand for Darien to read it while she was there; it wasn't the way she planned it. And then there was Rina, whom she wanted to see more often, something that may not be possible if she quit. "Um, that is all right. It was actually nothing important, now that I think about it." She looked at her watch and made a surprised noise somewhere in the back of her throat. "Oh! I should really be going home."

Darien made no comment on her ludicrous behavior as he nodded. "I'll drive you."

She was unable to convince him otherwise, so they exited and took the short walk to his garage. "Rina is a wonderful kid," she said, desperate for conversation.

"Yes, she is."

"I take it her parents aren't around much," she persisted, genuinely 

curious about the little girl.

Darien's jaw tightened as did his grip on the wheel. "My brother, Seiya, and his wife seem unable to take care of Christina in between their infamous fights and equally notorious make up sessions off at some exotic island."

Serena nodded slowly, compassion swelling up for Rina once again. "Poor love," she whispered softly, unaware she had even said it aloud until Darien shot her a grin.

"Do you always get attached to children so easily?"

"No," she admitted. "Rina—Rina's different."

"Yes, she is."

He pulled up to her apartment and parked in the visitor's space. He 

walked her up in silence, but as she was about to say good-bye and walk in her home, he interrupted. "Have dinner with me tonight."

She parted her lips in shock, "But that's only in a few hours from now!"

"I would wait until another day, Serena, but you see, I don't think I can bear it if I don't see you almost immediately." He grinned boyishly and Serena rolled her eyes.

"What nonsense," she muttered, but a tell tale flush crept up to her prominent cheekbones.

"I'll pick you up at seven?" He prodded.

Serena looked up into his cerulean eyes and was thankful he was trying 

to put aside the awkward scene that took place last night for her sake. She smiled, unwittingly causing his jaw to clench at the effect. "'All right, Darien," she conceded, "Seven it is."

****

"Darien, take it off!"

"Hold on, I'm trying."

"Well, try harder, I can't wait much longer. I'm dying here."

He gave one more try and then a grunt when he failed yet again.

"Let me do it!"

"No, I almost got it."

"That's what you said last time."

"Well, this time I mean it." He let out a sigh of appreciation when he 

finally succeeded in his goal. "I told you it would be beautiful."

Serena let Darien slide the black cloth from her eyes so she could see the spectacular sight in front of her. She gasped in pleasure and clasped her hands over her mouth. Right at a vantage point where one could admire the hues of the sunset and still have enough light to see, was a checkered tablecloth with a classic picnic basket on it. She turned to him, surprise written in her features as she let him take her hand and silently lead her to the spot.

"I don't believe this," she said slowly, turning her head to look all around her. The spot was on soft sand, in open view of the road, but all the while the ambiance was one of seclusion. Instead of feeling immediately on guard at the threat solitude posed, Serena sensed a delicious wave of excitement and apprehension fill her. She sat cross legged on the cloth across from Darien as he peered into the basket and pulled out various foods.

"You don't bring fine cheese, caviar, and wine on a run-of-the-mill picnic, Darien." She reprimanded with mock severity.

"Perhaps I don't want this to be run-of-the-mill."

She gulped and tried to break the inviting spell his voice created by 

spreading the gourmet cheese on a tiny cracker and biting into it.

He smiled at the light pink tint her cheeks had donned and began to eat with her, pointing out various sights and colors in the dying sunset.

An hour later they were lying on their backs, staring up at the first peeks the stars were making.

"Big Dipper," Serena pointed, her arm swinging up into the air above 

their heads. She let it fall after a moment, waiting for his next discovery,

He didn't fail her. "Orion's Belt." She tilted her head to see where he was pointing and smiled at the twinkling group of stars.

"When I was a child, my sister, Raye, once heard my father and I talking about where Orion's Belt was. The next time my mom took her shopping, she went into an accessories store and asked if she could buy one."

She felt his chuckled vibrate next to her and giggled as well. The movement caused her head to shift and accidentally bump with that of Darien's. "Sorry." She whispered, all traces of humor gone once she realized she was close enough to smell his faint cologne.

He turned his head to meet her eyes and she gasped when his lips nearly brushed hers with the movement. She prepared herself to get up and avoid this entirely too cozy situation, but his warm hand came up to stroke her smooth check and she was lost.

When the kiss came, it was expected, but a surprise nonetheless. Darien played with the soft tendrils of her hair while never breaking contact of their joined mouths. She heard rustling as he shifted from his back to his side. The position was awkward and they both realized it. Darien soon remedied that by sitting up and taking her with him. There was no pause for stilted conversation before his mouth swooped down and picked up where they had left off not thirty seconds ago.

Serena was heady in the intoxication from his kiss and when Darien's hands were pulling at the hem of her cable knit sweater, she was slow to realize the ramifications of such an action. But when she felt the jolt of his warm hands sliding up her back, alarms bells began to ring. She planted her hands on his chest and pushed. "No," she said, her voice throaty, clogged with ardency.

His eyes flicked open at the loss of her embrace and stared down at her, his icy eyes luminous in the darkness. He watched at she rearranged her disheveled clothes, run her hands through her tousled hair, and finally bring her guilty eyes to meet his.

She was worried about his reaction, he knew, whether or not it would volatile. It was her right to say no, her prerogative. And something about her made him realize she would never be the type to hand out her sexual favors anywhere, anytime. In fact, he would go so far as to say a ring on her left hand and a marital bed were in order before Serena Corday allowed any man to possess her fully.

The new information just verified the growing realization that she wasn't his type. Instead of it being a reason to walk away and return to their employer/employee status, it attracted him further, hopelessly entangling himself in the mystery that was Serena.

"Are you a virgin?" The inquiry was so blunt and so out of place in their situation, Serena had to cover her surprise.

Luckily, her quick blush did not reach his eyes. She injected coolness in her voice as well as a certain lightness, as she replied in a Southern accent, "Well, you certainly know your sweet talk, don't you, kind sir?"

He didn't smile as he said grimly, "That isn't an answer."

She sighed, dismayed that her attempt at humor to ward him off failed. 

"Well, I'm afraid you're not going to get one, Darien. Quite frankly, I don't believe it to be any of your business."

Darien nodded tersely and began packing up the remnants of their blissful dinner. She would have thought him to be angry if it weren't for the light conversation he offered on the way back to the car and her apartment. He walked her to her door and left without so much as holding her hand.

Perversely, this irritated her beyond belief when all she should have felt was overwhelming relief. Angry with herself and confused, she changed out of her jeans and white sweater and flopped onto her bed, sleep elusive for the next few hours.

   [1]: mailto:Karisma456@hotmail.com



	7. Broken 6

Broken

Broken

Chapter Six

By Karisma

Rated: PG-13

Genre: Alt, Romance

[Karisma456@hotmail.com][1]

Standard Disclaimers Apply

October 2001

AN: Hello, all! Okay, first off. As I begin my senior year, AP classes are taking their toll on me. I request that you PLEASE do not email me to flame me about updating. I"m trying, you guys really. About AOYU sequel, it's coming along. remember, it's one BIG parter so it will take some time. Desert Rose Section One will be out whenever i stop editing it. lol perfectionist, i know. But thank you for reading and enjoy!

For the first time in a long time, Darien was confused. About a woman, no less! He had no idea where he stood with Serena. The ending to their date was less than normal, ending with not even a chaste kiss goodnight. Not that he hadn't wanted to, eradicating the chaste, of course.

Did the sour conclusion mean there would be no future dates, or was it still possible for them?

Hell, Darien thought, running a hand through his dark hair. She was confusing even when she wasn't there!

He leaned back in his chair, his hands an image of a steeple. He watching the door unwaveringly, waiting for the object of his frustration to bring her pretty self in.

Darien didn't have to wait long, Serena soon came through the double 

doors, a quirky grin lighting up her features. "You know," she started, her 

grin impenetrable. "I think that secretary of yours is actually starting to 

like me. Ever since I brought her coffee and doughnuts, she—"

"You're late," he interjected, her voice flatter and sourer than he wanted it to be.

She frowned, her beam gone. "By four minutes," she qualified.

"Four minutes too late."

She planted her hands on her slim hips, pushing the sides of her black 

jacket back. "Listen, O Great Sovereign, how about we coordinate our watches so this colossal faux pas never ensues again?"

Darien sighed at her unveiled sarcasm and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. "I'm sorry, Serena." He sighed. "About now and last night."

Her expression softened and she came up to the desk, standing a good few feet away from him. "I had a good time last night. Minus the inquisition." She smiled, softening her words. "But I'm in dire need of friends right now rather than the confusion a relationship, short-lived as it might be, would cause." She bit her lip, shocked by her own boldness. Desperately waiting for the silence to end, she felt her chest constrict painfully when she thought he would get angry.

"I'd like that," Darien said, nodding, a smile quirking the corners of his firm mouth.

"Good." She inwardly let out a sigh of relief. Happy she was finally grasping control on things, she smiled. Stepping over to her laptop, she confirmed the decision she had made in her mind. Darien would make a great friend. She had never laughed so much as she did when she was with Darien, she had never kissed so much when she was with him either, but if she had to be honest, hand over heart, she would admit she enjoyed that part as well. But it would have to end, the latter part; as much as it was enjoyable, it was also something friends did not do. At least not the way they had been doing it.

She blushed at the thought and recollection and decided matter-of-factly that this was much more appealing. Friendship would keep in her in Darien's good company without the awkwardness of a relationship. A relationship would grow to be intimate, and she might even be compelled to tell him about the attack, and that she couldn't bring herself to do. Not now, not ever.

After she had finished and sent the article to her editor, Serena leaned back against the plush sofa and addressed her boss, "So how's Rina faring?"

"Addicted to DDR and forcing me to play as well," he stated, a wry grin playing on his lips.

"Well, I'm sure there is a long line of people who would be willing to pay to see that sight."

"Yourself included?"

"Myself included."

"Perhaps I can arrange that."

"And your price would be?"

"One kiss."

Serena's body jolted at the change their conversation had assumed. 

Switching from light repartee to provocative coyness was not her cup of tea, and she was silent, all replies leaving her for the moment.

"Well, I—I think I'll pass on the live show," she finally offered weakly, diverting her head from his gaze.

She sensed him get up from his chair and move up in front of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. "Is the price all together too high?" He mocked.

"Too rich for my blood," she agreed, staring at his mini bar in rapt fascination. She was so fixated on the rainbows the glasses of the bar refracted, she was startled when she felt Darien's shadow overcame her. When he picked up her hands and gently lifted her up, she mutely followed, too dumbstruck to pull away. Hadn't he just given his consent for them to be friends? What was he pulling?

When Darien's mouth covered her own, Serena gathered every ounce of 

willpower within her and remained stiff in his arms. She pulled away a 

fraction of a centimeter, their mouths still touching. "I can't—"

"Shut up, Serena," he whispered firmly against her lips. "Open your mouth."

"Darien—"

"Thanks."

And then all thoughts, all conversation ceased as she gave into the kiss with a murmur that was a surrender unto itself. When human necessity called for them to break apart, Serena swallowed harshly and covered her reddened mouth with a trembling hand. Her pink tongue darted out to moisten the parched lips and she discovered with a jolt something quite surprising. She tasted Darien.

"We agreed to be just friends," she accused, turning her back to him and wandering around aimlessly, wringing her hands.

"I've never French kissed 'just a friend'," his wry voice reached her, dripping with mockery and faint humor.

His light tone in their situation in comparison to the nervous breakdown she was having, snapped the fragile thread that held her above a chasm. She snatched up her coat and purse, anger apparent in each of her lithe movements.

"Where are you going?" Darien said warily, watching her head toward the double doors.

"Out."

"That's not an answer."

"So you can't be my friend, but you can be mother?" She snapped and 

slammed the door behind her.

Darien let out an aggravated curse and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He paced angrily for a few moments, before grabbing his own coat and tracing the steps she had taken minutes before.

She was stomping along the sidewalk, her bouncing against her hip with every angry step she took. He couldn't help but admire the sway of her slim hips as she rampaged down the concrete. He blew out his breath and jogged, catching up to her quick paces with ease.

"What the hell are you playing at?" His irritation at her abrupt departure was not hidden as he gripped her arm and turned to face him, his voice biting.

She gasped and Darien saw her initial expression. One of utter terror and dread. But soon enough, she realized that it was him and her face froze into a look of glacial contempt. She yanked her arm away from his demanding grasp and continued walking as if he wasn't there.

He stared in the spot she had just vacated before running to match her long strides. Never in a month of Sundays had a woman treat him as she just had. When he was soon matching her steps with a casual ease, she gave up and whirled around to face him.

"Go away," she enunciated very clearly through tightly clenched teeth.

"No," he emulated her tone and his mood cleared immediately when 

amusement at her vexation hit him.

"You," she seethed, her fists tight near her side, "are the most infuriating, impossible man I have ever met!"

He took the insults with a shrug and a smile. "I've been called worse."

"I'll bet," she snapped savagely, "No doubt from your own mother!"

Darien raised one sardonic eyebrow down at her. "Now that," he stated, 

"was not a very nice thing to say."

"I know, that is why I said it."

"If you smile and apologize, I'm willing to overlook it."

She gave a rather unladylike snort. "Now are you really? How very 

magnanimous of you."

"Isn't it?" He mocked, observing her growing temper with enjoyment.

"Go to hell," she snapped, turning to continue her walk down the busy 

sidewalk.

"I'm sure I'll get there soon enough," he agreed. "But for now I'd like to go just about anywhere with you."

"Why won't you leave me alone?"

"Because," he answered somberly, "For some reason I can't get enough of 

your razor tongue, short temper, and delightful disposition. Not to mention the way you melt whenever I hold you."

"I do not melt," she said crossly.

"Sure," his tone was scathing, belying the conceding words with its 

cutting swiftness.

"Oh, just leave me alone!" Her voice was now desperate as she threw her arms in the air, a gesture that contradicted the cultured tailoring of her neat suit.

"Fine," he shrugged and stopped walking. She was a bit startled and perversely peeved that he had given up so easily when his voice called out to her. "Oh, and eight o'clock."

"Eight?" She blinked, caught off guard by the random order.

"I'll pick you up at eight. We'll go to the theatre."

"Darien," she started, but was truncated.

"As friends, I promise." He dramatically planted his hand over the soft 

cotton fabric of his shirt where his heart was.

She glanced at him, suspicious. "You won't…try anything?"

"Not if you don't want me to."

"I don't."

"Liar."

She sent him a scornful glare before shaking her head and preparing to 

walk off.

"There'll be a car outside the building tomorrow waiting for us."

"There is no 'us'," she reminded him, slowly stepping away from him.

"Not yet."

"Not ever," she tossed over her shoulder.

"We'll see," Darien returned.

She stopped and swung only her head back to face him, her hand securing 

her purse strap. "How long you can hold your breath, Mr. McDermott?"

Darien waited until he saw Serena blend it with the rest of the crowd before giving a reply. "A long, long time, Miss Corday."

****

Serena got home and realized after a moment that she had smiled all the way back to her apartment. Convincing herself that it had nothing whatsoever to do with Darien, she shrugged out of her jacket and into her room. Hanging up the jacket, she caught sight of her happy face in the mirror. After telling herself to stop grinning like madman because she looked like an utter buffoon, she settled to the task of making dinner.

On the way to the kitchen, she caught sight of her mail. One large envelope in particular caught her eye. She reached for it, her curiosity piqued. The realization of the contents wiped the grin off her face for a long time to come.

It was the package of pictures she had sent to every official who would listen. And now, two years later, they had finally gotten around to sending them back. It wasn't even opened.

RETURN TO SENDER.

She closed her eyes tightly and wanted nothing more than to burn the photos that were permanently etched in her brain. Photos of the bruises on her face, thighs, arms, stomach.

Opening her blue eyes with such utter determination one would think she was off to battle an army by herself, Serena marched back to her bedroom, dumped the yellow envelope in the small wastebasket by her bed, and dusted her hands off smartly.

That was it. The last remains of the entire, sordid deal.

It was time to live again.

****

"Stop it!" She hissed at her head.

"Stop what?"

"I didn't say anything!" She snapped irritably, her head spinning beyond control.

Darien looked around the deserted hallway of her apartment building, "So I'm hearing things?"

"That, or you're eavesdropping, which is very rude, I'll have you know," she sighed, suddenly tired.

"Miss Corday," Darien announced, an amused smile that was annoying as it was charming. "I think you are a bit tipsy."

Her temper blazed adorably. "Are you suggesting that I'm drunk, Mr. 

McDermott?"

He stepped closer and suddenly Serena wasn't half as much woozy as she was nervous by his proximity. "Was I being subtle? I apologize. You're as drunk as a skunk, Serena."

"Ooooo," she flared. "I am not most certainly!" Her bee stung lips were 

more pronounced when she was drunk, he realized. And the effect of her 

charming words was quite appealing. Even if her words didn't come out in 

exactly the right order…

"Yes, you are."

"I are not!"

"Are too," his voice was husky and he still had that blasted grin on 

his handsome face.

"No!" She shook her head and then grimaced when the room once again danced a crazy gig.

"Yes," he shook his head in the same manner, mimicking her adorable actions.

"Do you know, Mr. McDermott," she said primly, the effect of which was nothing short of hilarious, her trying her hardest to be proper when she was intoxicated. "That it is rather ungentlemanly of you to dispute the fact that I am not drunk?"

"Well, who ever said I was a gentleman?" He leaned forward and nipped her ear lightly. When he pulled back, she was frozen, her large eyes staring at him.

"You go home now," she nodded, as if confirming her words to herself.

Her unintentionally beguiling features were an aphrodisiac and Darien 

groaned inwardly. "I promise I won't bite."

"You just did!" She slurred out. A silly smile swept across her face. 

She pointed an unsteady figure at his mouth. "You have teeth. Teeth pretty." 

She giggled uncontrollably.

Darien couldn't help but laugh with her. All he had suggested was that she drink half a glass of wine to calm her jumpy nerves. She had looked at the glass and then him, suspicion all over her face. After reassuring her half a glass wouldn't do much to her system and he wouldn't jump her bones, she had complied. How one drink had turned to three he would never know.

"You're drunk, Serena," he stated again.

She lost the smile and her eyes fired up once again. "Listen 

you...you," she seemed to have lost her train of thought as she stood still, blinking.

"Yes?" he prompted, his smirk sexy and infuriating. When she failed to respond, he took the key from her loose grasp and opened the door. Guiding her in, he shut the door behind them. "I'll make you some coffee and put you to bed."

"Bed? Where bed?" She seemed to think this was hilarious as she plopped down on the couch, her beaded purse flung across the room by her giddy hands.

He shook his head and found his way around her neat kitchen with ease. Setting the coffee maker, he switched off the light and went to Serena in the living room.

"The mumps will make you bumpy, the bumps will make you lumpy, the chicken pox'll make you jump and twitch. Whooo! The common cold will fool ya, the whooping cough'll cool ya, but poison ivy alone will make you itch!"

Darien saw the flighty female on the sofa, her arms raised above her head in a frenzied dance. He slightly winced as she commenced the chorus: 

"Poison iiiivvvyyyy. Poison iiivvyyy. Late at night when you're sleeping, poison ivy'll come a-creeping aaaarooouund!"

She was suddenly silent, a stricken look befalling her sweet face. 

Darien came to her quickly, asking her what it was.

"I don't know the words," she whispered achingly, and Darien could have sworn her eyes filled up with tears. That was before a mood swing kicked in and she burst out laughing, falling back against the cushions in her glee.

Darien shook his head before picking her up and carrying her to the room that was most probably her bedroom. Setting her down on the femininely flowered covers, he bent over, helping her detangle her arms from around him neck.

She stared at him with serious eyes while he slid off her heels. "One, two, buckle my shoe!" She crowed, dissolving into yet another fit of giggles. But she stopped grinning when he came closer to unsnap her earrings and bracelet.

Darien noticed the peculiarity of the situation with a wry, inward shake of his head. Here he was playing mother to the woman that made him feel a desire unlike anything ever before. He rested her head back against the pillow, pulling the sheets up to her chin. When he turned around to walk back, she caught his hand with a rather strong grip for a drunk woman.

"Darien?" She whispered.

"Hmmm?" He sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed her loose hair off 

her forehead.

"If I screamed, would you come?"

He smiled reassuringly and nodded.

"And if I wasn't attractive, would you still be my friend?"

Again he nodded.

"And if I was broken, would you still want me?" Her face was no longer 

impish, but the childlike need and utter trust was still in her eyes, burning up at him. He was startled at the strange words and even stranger meaning, but he still nodded, satisfying her.

She fell against the pillows and promptly drifted off to sleep. Darien leaned over to flick off the small light on her night table, when something bright caught his eye straight below him. Nestled in the wicker basket near her bed, was a manila envelope addressed to a city in India. A curiosity that was whetted only further because of the dealings he had currently with the country had him reach down and pick it up. He turned it over in his hands, knowing he should put it back, knowing that it was none of his business. He looked over at the innocent angel curled up in her bed and he knew it was simply and irrefutably wrong.

But knowing all the above could not stop him from gently prying open the unbroken seal and shaking its contents out. His jaw clenched and his eyes quickly skimmed the letter that was joined with the revealing photographs. Anger poured into his veins as his head turned to her sleeping form instinctively, as if to make sure she was all right and here with him.

He quietly slipped the papers into the small package and tucked it under his arm. He leaned over to kiss her forehead tenderly, pausing when she shifted and mumbled something incoherent. He then turned off the light and walked out the door, the coffee still brewing where he left.

****

Serena awoke the next morning with the blessing of only a minor headache that dulled with a few aspirin. She entered Darien's office the next day and was received the benediction of a slight smile from his secretary. Positive that the doughnuts and coffee had been the old bat's undoing, Serena resolved to fetch her some more the next morning.

She slid through the formidable doors with a certain anxiety. She knew she had been drunk the night before and that Darien had been with her in her apartment, but she could not recollect if she had managed to say something embarrassing or mortifying. She supposed she would soon have her answer, she realized grimly, as soon as she turned and looked right into Darien's blue eyes.

When she did so, she found something alien in them all right, but it wasn't like anything she was expecting. There was no mocking, no teasing. There was only a curious mixture of contradictory emotions she could not identify. Serena furrowed her brow and walked forward, immensely worried by the soft, almost tender, expression on his face.

"Darien?" She asked tentatively, vaguely wondering if someone had died or been hurt.

"Hello, Serena," he said gently.

She decided to dismiss the loving tone as pity for something she had 

said last night. Surely it could not have been that bad. She shrugged and chose to ignore the entire ordeal and maybe he would follow suit. "So," she said brightly, "What's on the agenda today?"

He shook his head grimly. "I ended the entire deal with Singh."

She gasped as her eyes widened. "Why?"

"There was no way in hell I'd merge with the man who raised a rapist."

   [1]: mailto:Karisma456@hotmail.com



	8. Broken 7

Broken  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
By Karisma  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Genre: Alt, Romance  
  
Karisma456@hotmail.com  
  
Standard Disclaimers Apply  
  
April 2002  
  
This was not happening, Serena thought calmly. It simply could not, would not happen. Life had already thrown her a truckload of manure with no return address; this had to be where fate or kismet or destiny or God drew the line.  
  
"What?"  
  
Darien sighed and took her upper arms in his hands, pulling her to sit down. She wretched herself away from him before he could move her one step.  
  
"What?" She repeated, her jaw clenched as she stared up at him.  
  
She was actually going to make him say it, he realized. He obliged her grimly, his tone reluctant and full of anger. "His son, Ajay."  
  
"He's a rapist." Serena clung onto the hope that maybe Darien was referring to someone else's rape that Ajay had caused. But as she looked into his eyes, the compassion and underlying emotion there was undeniably for her. "Who did he rape?" She asked stubbornly.  
  
"Serena…" He began, not wanting her to hear the words, the cruel, blunt words that she had lived with for the past seven years.  
  
Her voice was angry and demanding. "Who, Darien? Who did he rape!?" It was a yell more than a question and her hands were clenched tightly at her sides, her knuckles white.  
  
"Raye," he answered softly. "Raye."  
  
She gave a half cry half whimper and her fist flew to cover her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes as her body shook with unshed sobs. "Oh, God," she whispered hoarsely.  
  
Darien pulled her to him in a tight hug and she went willingly for a few moments, savoring the feeling of being comforted. A luxury that she never allowed herself. Why? Because, the answer dawned upon her coldly, you never deserved it. And nothing has changed, you still don't.  
  
She pushed away from him and clasped her hand to her forehead, staring down at the lush carpet in frenetic thought. "Did you give him a specific reason why?"  
  
Darien stumbled across the quick change in topic. "No."  
  
She seemed visibly relieved as her shoulders drooped down a bit. A new question gnawed at her and without a moment's hesitation, she voiced it, "How did you find out?"  
  
A dark blush swept across his high cheekbones as he looked away. And in one instant, it was all clear. But, as ignorance was bliss, she still clung unto the hope that he had come across it by entirely different, guileless means. Turning swiftly on her heel, she ran out of the building, ignoring Darien's commands to come back, and straight to her apartment. People shot her strange looks on the sidewalk, moving away from the apparently deranged woman. She was oblivious to it all and as she stumbled with the key, she prayed of Darien's innocence.  
  
She flung open the door to her bedroom, the wood crashing into the wall as she flew in and sank into the carpet on her knees near the wicker basket. A flood of new tears waved over her as she dropped her head against the bed and mourned what the loss of the envelope represented.  
  
It meant the loss of Darien, the loss of trust, the loss of her carefully kept guard.  
  
And these losses meant so much to her. Because somewhere along the line of friendship and passion and laughter, she had fallen in love with him.  
  
****  
  
Seeing as how she would never see him again, the shock of having him know should not have hit her so hard. But maybe it was the blow of never seeing him again that hurt her. It would be rather funny, if it weren't so tragic. Here she had been fighting tooth and nail his advances, and now she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to hug him, to have him hold her.  
  
She cried for the first time in seven years and it was an odd action. Tears ran down her cheeks as she held a pillow close to her breast.  
  
It was raining.  
  
She could hear the heavy drops hit the roof above her, feel the coldness seep into soul and stay. It seemed, she thought with a bitter smile, that all her tragedies seemed to have their finales with rain. Supposedly cleansing, spiritual rain.  
  
She didn't feel cleansed, she felt exactly as torn and broken as she had that day when she was left lying in the mud with only a faint hope of Raye's survival. She felt just as lost and despondent as that day. Only now it was somehow much worse. Because it proved how she would never be able to escape it like Raye had. She would never be able to have a normal relationship. She didn't deserve it. Fate had made sure of it.  
  
She slowly pushed the pillow aside and got up. Wiping her eyes blindly, she reached for a pencil and a pad of paper. She then began to do something she hadn't done in over a year.  
  
She began to draw.  
  
****  
  
Darien arrived the following morning.  
  
She had expected him, so it wasn't too great of a shock to see him in her hallway, his size making the doorway and her apartment seem miniscule. She stepped back and allowed him access to the living room. After her eyes hurt from the copious tears they secreted, rationale had blessed her with its presence. Darien would never give this up without a fight or a full blown explanation. Maybe both. And so she had spent the rest of her waking hours mentally preparing herself for the conversation that would drain all of her remaining energy.  
  
No words were exchanged as he stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to go. She made a silent gesture for him to sit down and he complied.  
  
She looked like she had been to hell and back, he noted grimly, taking in her puffed eyes and raw nose. Her usually lustrous hair was let loose in a dull cloud that framed her sunken face. Her pallor frightened him to a degree, he had the urge to shake her to ascertain that she was still alive and with him. But then she moved, clearing her throat softly.  
  
"What did you come for, Darien?" He looked at her so baldly, she could not keep his gaze and turned away to focus on a lamp fixture. "I can't work for you anymore," she said superfluously, her voice surprisingly calm and unwavering.  
  
"Shocker," he replied dryly and Serena turned around swiftly, glaring at him with enough reproof to hold back an army.  
  
"You'll pardon me if I don't find that amusing," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest in a movement that screamed defense mechanism.  
  
"Good. I don't find it amusing either." He stood up and Serena wished he hadn't. Now, with his more than average height and build, Darien was suddenly in control of everything. The room, the conversation, the entire situation.  
  
She stumbled back a few steps and chafed her arms, more out of fear than cold. Even though she knew the reason for his being here, it still wasn't clear what he hoped to gain out of his visit. Surely he didn't expect her to come crying to him in a blubbering heap, wailing all the woes life had dealt her?  
  
"What did you come for, Darien?" She repeated, forcing herself to meet his hard gaze and hold it, not portraying any of the turmoil inside her.  
  
He sighed and ran all ten fingers through his already rumpled black hair. He still hadn't removed his long, black overcoat and Serena dumbly acknowledged that it must have still been raining, judging from the beads of condensation on his coat and hair.  
  
"I don't know why I'm here, Serena. I really don't." He turned his back to her, rubbing his face in agitation. "I want you to talk to me"—he faced her to shoot her a rueful smile—"but that isn't likely, now is it?"  
  
Her blue eyes flicking away from him was answer enough. But the silent verification only served to heighten his frustration as he crossing the room in two quick strides and grabbed hold of her arms.  
  
"Why in God's name don't you talk to me!" He gave her a quick shake before releasing her and distancing himself.  
  
Serena's mind was blank as she crossed her arms over her stomach tightly, reassuring herself she was okay and Darien meant no physical harm to her. Emotional, definetly. But somehow, a feeling in her gut told her he wouldn't hurt her physically for all the world. After a few seconds, she lifted her empty gaze to look at his fiercely pained face.  
  
"What are you going to do about it?"  
  
"It?" Serena blinked a few times.  
  
"About what happened, Serena." His voice was now surprisingly gentle.  
  
She laughed dryly. "What am I going to do about it, Darien?" Tears pricked her eyes as she let out another bitter chuckle. "I am going to do what I should have done two years ago: I'm going to let it go."  
  
"So that's it then? You're just going to give, quit fighting and let them win?" He wasn't talking about any court battle, but Serena mistakenly thought he was referring to justice.  
  
"Fight? Fight? Let me tell you about fighting, Darien. Fighting is standing in front of a judge while he tells you its your fault your sister was raped right in front of you. Fighting is having to watch your sister go through a painful pelvic exam to get the proof needed, only to have it "lost". Fighting is walking out of a courtroom with your head held high to tell every lawyer who will listen about the crimes a rich boy has done. Fighting is listening to the rejections from those same attorneys, day after day, saying they can't lodge a complaint since the evidence is circumstantial. Fighting is watching your mother realize what happened to your sister and crying. Fighting is having to retell that day over and over again, in all its humiliation, in the dismal hope that maybe this time it will bring justice.  
  
"I've fought this seven years, Darien. You've "fought" for seven hours. Well, I'm sick of fighting. I'm tired, Darien. I'm tired. Go through that fight, walk that fight with me, and maybe, just maybe, you can sit there and tell me I haven't done enough. But until then, Darien, don't.  
  
"And even if you wanted to, you couldn't. Statute of limitation, Darien. Rape crimes such as these can only last as cases for five years. Then files are put away and everything is dismissed. It's over." She rasped out one harsh breath and then fell back against her sofa, emotion and strain causing her chest to heave with labored gasps. Serena kept her eyes closed as hot tears trickled out of the tightly closed lids.  
  
She didn't want to cry in front of anyone. Especially not him.  
  
Darien watched as she curled herself forward, hugging her knees to her chest and slightly rocking back and forth. He heard her whisper, "It's over," and knew it was more for her sake than his. However the legal system worked, Darien knew it wasn't over. Nor would it ever be until she learned to forgive herself and shake off the demons that plagued her. He swallowed hard and stared at a point above her head. Darien clenched his jaw and walked over to the door, his strides taut. He opened the door, clutching the knob so hard he thought it would crumble. He didn't look back as he said over his shoulder, "Pack a suitcase and a carry-on. We're taking a trip."  
  
Serena lifted her tear-streaked face in surprise.  
  
But he was gone.  
  
The question where was superfluous; he wanted her to go to India.  
  
****  
  
He slipped through the door a few hours later, not at all surprised to find the door unlocked and Serena collapsed in an exhausted sleep where he had left her a while back. Her form was still and exhausted in slumber, so he was surprised when she caught his wrist as he walked past the sofa. Her grip was strong and desperate. Darien looked down at her closed eyes.  
  
"I can't go. Please don't ask me again." She then let his hand go as if it was too hot to touch.  
  
Darien stared at her face. Unsure of where to go from there. Never in his years of higher education had he been trained how to deal with this. Never in all the deals he had negotiated, all the mergers he had formed, all the communication systems he had forced on countries, whether they really wanted them or not never taught him how to comfort and soothe in a situation like this.  
  
He ran a hand through his hair and then pulled it down his face, distorting his features. Two months ago, had he been handed this exact same ordeal with the woman he was then currently seeing, he would have hightailed it out of there, after making sure she had the proper doctors attending to her. And then, after a week or so, he would have sent her a gift in the form of jewelry, to ease the misfortunes she had been dealt. It was his way, his tact, his lack of empathy.  
  
But now, he knew that no amount of money and presents could ever take away the heart wrenching emotions Serena, and probably any another woman in her condition, was feeling. No, no other woman would take the guilt and responsibility Serena had burdened herself with. No professional, regardless of how many degrees he had obtained, would relieve the culpability she tormented herself with.  
  
Only Serena could free herself, and she was the one who believed she deserved a life of unhappiness and solitude. The thought of her forcing herself to live miserably made his throat tighten and his next words sound harsher than he had intended.  
  
"You're going."  
  
Her head lifted up and his heart constricted at the sight of her tear stained face imploring him to understand. "I can't." Her body was trembling, but the words were clearer and more powerful than anything he had ever heard. Serena's bloodless lips pursed together as she continued the war he had engaged with his eyes. Her crystalline blue ones filled with more tears, but they never wavered from his own. But, in the end, she was the one to look away first.  
  
Darien stroked her cheek lovingly and nearly cried with joy when she didn't recoil, but turned to him. His euphoria was short-lived, as her words softly hit home. "You went behind my back when I was vulnerable and took something that was no business of yours. You then opened my mail, which a federal offense in itself, on top of qualifying as a damn good reason to never trust you again.  
  
"If I had wanted you to know, don't you think I would have told you?" Serena's delicate eyebrows creased slightly as she expressed her disappointment. "Did you maybe realize that I would tell you when I was good and ready? Did you stop and think that perhaps I wasn't prepared to inform you about that part of my life yet? Or did you simply just bulldoze on through, like you do with everything? I'm not a business transaction, Darien. You could have respected my wishes and waited until I—"  
  
She broke off and bit her lip, looking away from his impassive face. Swallowing hard, she turned to him again, taking in his seemingly placid face with a bitter laugh. "And after all that, you don't even really care, do you? All you want is to be a knight in shining armor and save the victim. And then what? You leave in search for another waif?" Another laugh, punctuated by a sniff. "NO, thank you, Darien. I'm not interesting in being the charity case of the month—or is it week?" Wiping her face free of fresh tears, she giggled. "Do you think you could write me off as a tax deduction?"  
  
She had not noticed his jaw twitch imperceptibly throughout her babbling tirade. But at her last attempt at a wise crack, he moved. It was a motion too fluid and fast for a human eye to track. Before she knew, Darien's hands were confining her face with barely concealed strength. He brought her trapped face so close to his, Serena could feel the heat emanated from him.  
  
"Don't," he hissed, his magnetic blue eyes now shards of ice that nearly made her shiver. "Don't ever make a joke of it, Serena."  
  
She didn't fight his force over her, Serena knew it would be futile. But she continued to use her voice as a weapon. "Give me one good reason why I should go with you…other than your newfound sense of goodwill toward mankind."  
  
His eyes narrowed a sliver at her last barb, but he answered straightforwardly. "I don't want you to hurt anymore."  
  
Serena's eyes widened and her lips parted in disbelief. She tore herself away from his now tender hold. "Well, guess what? It hurt me when you betrayed me by taking something that was private. It hurt me when you went behind my back. So please spare me your bull."  
  
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb, as if praying for patience. She got up and moved to the printed armchair, the furniture that happened to be the one furthest away from him.  
  
"I want to help you, Serena."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because—"  
  
Because it kills me to watch you cry.  
  
Because I want you so bad it hurts to look at you.  
  
Because I need you so much it scares me.  
  
Because I love you.  
  
He said none of these replies, however, so surprised with the thoughts that tumbled nearly over one another. Blinking hard, he swallowed and averted his eyes from her suddenly penetrating ones. Clearing his throat to stall, he finally decided on something to tell her. "Because I care about you."  
  
Did she look vaguely disappointed or was he simply imagining it? In any case, she hugged the satin throw pillow closer to her chest and looked down so a curtain of golden hair shielded her expression from him. She stayed that way for quite some time. Then, in one burst of action, she lifted her head up and glared at him.  
  
"Get out."  
  
Darien would have tripped had he had been standing up. The succinct words and calm expression had a shocking impact on him. "What?"  
  
"Is there something wrong with your hearing?"  
  
"You know there isn't."  
  
"Then I don't think I need to repeat myself, but allow me to regardless: Get out." When he made to move to leave, Serena opted to continue. "Didn't I just tell you? I don't need your pity. Give it to the Save the Whales Foundation. I'm not some little bird that you can consider your pet project and then pat away as good as new once you grow weary of the responsibility.  
  
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I have for years now. And I was managing fine before you decided to meddle. So take your high and mighty twelve steps to total recovery and get the hell out of my apartment!"  
  
Darien glared at her for quite sometime, his blue eyes clashing with hers with enough electricity to light up a small town for days. When he spoke, his voice was low. "All right, I do feel compassion. But perhaps it is not for you, did you ever consider that possibility? Perhaps it is for the misfortunate people that have had to put up with your sour disposition for the past seven years!"  
  
"Do you ever get tired of being such a bastard?"  
  
"No, it's what I live for."  
  
"If I go, will you leave me be after we get back?"  
  
"If you want me to."  
  
"I do, believe me. I do."  
  
"Liar." He smiled fondly and stroked her cheek. "Our flight leaves at one a.m." He chuckled at her aghast expression. "I know. But lets get your bag packed."  
  
"How long will we be there?"  
  
"As long as it takes."  
  
****  
  
Darien leaned against the slightly comfortable chair in business class. When it squeaked lightly in protest to the movement, he shot a glance at the sleeping woman besides him, making sure she had not woken. If someone asked him what he was hoping to accomplish with all this fanfare and hubbub, he wouldn't be able to give a coherent reply. He wasn't the least bit equipped in handling matters of this delicacy.  
  
He sure did not know what he was doing, but he was certain on the why part of the equation. Instinctively, he turned to look down at her tilted head again. Her head was resting on a pillow propped against the closed shield of the window. Strands of blonde hair fell around her smooth cheek and parted lips.  
  
He loved her.  
  
Darien watched as she stirred and blinked sleepily. He smiled in return when she offered him a soft one.  
  
"How many more hours?" Her voice was husky and low, clogged with sleep. Its deep tone was enough to send blood pumping.  
  
He lowered his head to check his watch in the dark cabin. "Three."  
  
"Good God." She let her head fall back, exposing the fair skin of her throat. "I'd forgotten how hellish the trip can be." She lolled her head to look over at him. "Did you sleep?"  
  
"Some." All of a sudden it was incredibly hard to keep the policy he had instated while she slept. The hands-off policy. He had decided to keep his romantic intentions at bay for the duration of their trip. Not only was it better for Serena to sort through her emotions without the pressures of a relationship near, it was time for him to sift through the conflicting sensations that ran inside him. It was prudent. Pragmatic. Sagacious.  
  
He saw her stretch her legs in front of her, conforming the white turtleneck tighter against her body as she arched her back.  
  
It was suicide.  
  
****  
  
There was a multitude of surprised hugs and kisses as Serena entered the threshold of the Khan's home. Darien somewhat felt like an interloper at first, standing with the baggage and staring at the effusive reunion with as much involvement as oil had with water. Soon enough, the family noticed the stranger their guest had brought. Darien, for the first time he could recall, felt awkward. Serena, noticing his discomfort with her usual perceptiveness, put a small hand over his arm and introduced him as a close friend.  
  
The Khan's shared a knowing look that portrayed that they knew what the euphemism "close friend" entailed, but were to polite to share it verbally. Serena blushed, but Darien seized the situation with his usual aplomb. Kissing her hand and then leaving it ensconced in his own, he smiled cheerily and stated how glad he was that they had decided to take the trip over here, regardless of how lacking he felt in the hygiene department.  
  
That successfully broke the tension as everyone laughed and suddenly Serena and Darien were shooed away into separate bathrooms to bathe.  
  
When they each came out, everyone joined together in the family room and lively discussions about movies and anything under the sun soon erupted. The rambunctious structure of the family did nothing to turn Darien off. He thoroughly enjoyed the dismayed groans that ensued when someone brought up an opinion that nobody agreed with, the laughing when someone made a comment that was humorous, the entire feel that this was a family and he wasn't an outsider. The unspoken agreement was that everyone spoke English.  
  
Darien sat on a flat couch surface with Serena, his back against the wall, and his legs stretched in front of him, he leaned against the circular stuffed pillow behind him. Serena lounged beside him, voicing her opinions with as much enthusiasm as the rest of the family with more livelihood then he had ever seen.  
  
Although he was more than able to follow the conversation, his eyes continuously wandered to watching Serena bob her head and smile in agreement or wrinkle her nose in disgust and quickly refute whatever had been said. He loved her smile. This was the first time he had really seen its affect. She had a dimple in her cheek, it was small but Darien marveled at how it emphasized the glow of her face.  
  
Some time later he was aware of another pair of eyes on him. The young woman who had introduced herself as Neha was staring at him knowingly. A smirk quirked the corner of her lips as she arched a brow at him. She shifted her gaze over to Serena for a millisecond before pointedly returning to him. For the first time he could remember, Darien flushed. Neha's mouth turned fully into a smile as she winked at him.  
  
And suddenly, he knew he had an ally.  
  
****  
  
"Tie me?" Serena walked over to Megan and gave the already dressed woman her back.  
  
Megan's warm fingers brushed Serena's almost bare back to deftly tie the four ties that consisted of the top's back. When she was done, Serena stood in front of the mirror, a hand instinctively going to the waistband of the long, flowing skirt that made up the rest of the assemble. She tugged it up, trying to cover up as much skin as possible.  
  
Megan shoved her fidgety hands away, firmly pulling the band down to reveal her flat stomach. "You know that's the way it's supposed to look."  
  
Serena sighed, shifting her body to and fro to make the beautiful layers of her skirt swish back and forth. The red material was deep and dark, a wine color rather than a blaring red. The gold embroidery on the square neckline and short sleeves accented the small dots of gold scattered throughout the heavy layers of her skirt.  
  
"I know. It's just that I never realized that India could be so… skanky." Megan's brow creased at the foreign word and Serena laughed. "So revealing."  
  
"Ah," Megan smirked. "How else do you think we got such a great population?"  
  
Serena laughed as she walked to the bed, admiring the way the skirt moved around her. She felt elegant. Picking up the matching burgundy duppatta, she deftly folded and tucked it in all the right places, letting the sheer material cover her upper body in a diagonal before pinning it over the tight bun she had pulled her hair into. The rest of the gauzy strip flowed behind her as she turned around to look at Megan.  
  
Her friend was dressed in a similar fashion, only Megan's peacock blue gown had her duppatta around her neck, with the two remaining ends left loose behind her. Megan had something that made her entire outfit complete. She had the tinted skin, the dark hair and large eyes that the entire line of Indian dresses was made for. But, Serena had to admit, she didn't look half bad.  
  
She couldn't wait to see his face when he caught a glimpse of her.  
  
She frowned, what did he have to do with this? He had brought, no dragged, her here. And although she was beginning to be quite happy he had, it most certainly did not mean that she was romantically inclined toward him.  
  
Serena gave her reflection a stern nod, as if to cement the lecture she had given herself. Then, slipping into a pair of gold sandals, she lifted up her long skirt with one hand and walked out the door, Megan by her side.  
  
"Oh, rukhna!" Megan rushed back into the room they had just evacuated. Serena understood the request to stop and wait so she idly rubbed the material of her skirt between her thumb and forefinger. When Megan came back, Serena could see the small sticker on her friend's index finger.  
  
She bent her head obligingly and allowed Megan to carefully place the burgundy bindi on her forehead. Serena glanced at a mirror; Megan's last touch was truly was beautiful, perfectly slender and shaped in the form of a teardrop.  
  
Serena sucked in a deep breath, suddenly nervous. All right, she could admit to herself at least, if no one else. She wanted Darien's approval. She wanted that grin that let her know he thought she was the most gorgeous thing to ever walk the earth. She wanted it so badly, she could already feel the pain of not receiving it. She could hear his voice in the next room, deep and soothing in low timbers.  
  
She reveled in it. Then, she took another calming breath and walked in. 


	9. Broken 8

Broken  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
By Karisma  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Genre: Alt, Romance  
  
Karisma456@hotmail.com  
  
Standard Disclaimers Apply  
  
May 2002  
  
My AP tests are finished and I am free to write! It may take a while to get me started, but I think I'll have more chapters out sooner. Desert Rose is my major project, but I also have other fanfiction besides SM on my plate. Anyone else love GH( General Hospital)? Yes, it's a soap opera—but I got hooked over break! lol  
  
The look he gave her made all the twisting and adjusting she had to go through in order to put the dress on worth it. It was one of pleasant shock, unmitigated desire, and another emotion Serena couldn't quite identify. Rather than puzzling over it, she floated over to the sofa where Mrs. Khan sat, jingling with each light step. Unable to avoid Darien's intent stare for long, she pretended to rearrange the flowers in the older woman's hair for as long as she could.  
  
Feminine pride, alien and exciting, washed over her at the effect she had over him. Never had she wanted a man to want her and the affirmation that she could do it filled her with a warmth she had never known she was missing.  
  
She didn't know how long they spent playing tag with hot eye locks, but before she knew it, Megan was tugging on her bangle-clad wrist. She jogged out the door with one last blushing smile in Darien's direction. Once outside on the green grass that Mr. Khan had specially planted, Megan handed her two decorated burgundy-colored sticks. Serena took one dandya ras in each hand without a moment's hesitation. Twirling one agley between her slim fingers, she got in her place of the circle. Out of nowhere, music started and she felt the simple beat, falling into the age-old dance filled with twirls, steps, and clicking of the sticks together.  
  
The dance was fluid, each girl swaying and moving in the fast paced circle, round and round. Laughing, Serena moved with them, loving the bright colors of their dresses glint in the light the hung lanterns provided. She registered Darien's eyes on her when the men came out to clap and cheer. But her vision blurred with the music, lights, and movements. This wasn't a time for thinking. Carpe Diem. She was seizing the day, the moment. The beat coursed through her veins, pushing her to move her legs and arms in a way that came naturally.  
  
Darien tuned everything out except the music and her. He traced her liquid movements all around the circle, admiring every jump, twirl, and click of the sticks she held in her hands. He had no idea she was such a good dancer. He would bet that she didn't even know how good of a dancer she was. The dim lights caught the gold in the outfit she wore. God, he groaned, that outfit. How on earth people were supposed to remain chaste here was beyond him when the women wore such provocative and curve displaying clothes. It was the purity with which they wore them that was the real turn-on, he decided. He would give his right arm that Serena had no idea how incredible her slim waist looked with the low riding skirt. Every time her toned arms came up to clang the decorated sticks together, the flimsy material covering part of her midriff moved, gracing and torturing him with a full view of the taut, creamy skin.  
  
He clenched the hand that was wrapped around a cup of soda. The music continued, but the women stopped, laughing and hugging. They formatted a line and the men stood opposite them in a parallel fashion. In a flash, Darien was given his own pair of dark dandya ras and stood somewhere in the line. His protests were left unheeded and soon the lines moved in a blur. Members of the opposite clanked their sticks with each other before twirling and moving along the line. It took a while for Darien to move his feet with the beat, but soon enough he had the hang of it in his slacks and loosely buttoned dress shirt.  
  
With the lines moving, his turn to be level with Serena was fast approaching. Darien smiled and absently lifted his arms to clash his sticks with that of a young girls'. Two left. He did the same with a woman around thirty something. His field of vision was filled with Serena smiling broadly as she laughed at something the little boy said across from her. One left. He turned his head slightly to catch Megan's turquoise glittered sticks raised face level. Her smirk was met with a rueful smile as he gladly met his dandya ras with Megan's.  
  
Then she spun off and Serena's sweet face filled his view. She raised her brows as she lifted the gold spackled cylinders at an angle. His face didn't change when he met them with his with a soft clang. Between the four colored sticks was a small diamond-shaped window. They stared at each other through it, oblivious to the pulsating line they were holding up. People moved around them with ease, leaving them gazing in a world where blue met blue and words were exchanged without a sound.  
  
The moment was brought to a halt when a small girl of six tugged on Serena's long skirt and she dropped her arms quickly and bent down to talk to the child. Darien watched them scamper away, the girl running ahead of Serena, pulling her along by the arm. When the burgundy figure was gone, Darien turned and walked away, sitting down on a nearby chair as he tried to calm down his pulse, his mind, his heart.  
  
****  
  
Serena tried to focus on what Priya was saying. She nodded at all the right places, but the words made no sense. All she could hear was silence, all she could see was Darien's eyes, all she could feel was the joyous nervousness that fluttered all throughout her and made her feel as light as air.  
  
Not allowing herself to question the bubbling sensation within her, sans the alcohol, Serena waved and smiled as the women around her walked away. Unable to rid herself of the grin taking over her lips, she slowly made her way away from the party, but still well on the Khan's enormous premises. The light waned and soon she was only able to make out distinct shadows. She walked over to a slim tree, placing her hand flat on its trunk. Bending her elbow, she brought face closer to its wood, resting her forehead on the rough bark. Rotating slowly, her back was soon pressed against the tree rather than her face. Closing her eyes, she pulled away after a moment and furthered her walk, her bare feet tickled by the grass. Serena's anklet chimed with every step and she soon found herself near a lit gazebo.  
  
Realizing the Khans must have had it built somewhere in the past few years, she fingered the white lattice pattern and took the few steps to enter the circular solace. Carefully lifting her skirts to sit on the white shelf the served as a seat all the way around the small gazebo. Lifting her legs, she turned to rest her cheek against her knees. Staring out into the night, she spotting a small tin cup right next to her. Lifting it, she placed her index finger in and dusted it off when it came back covered in red powder.  
  
Reveling in the powder's significance, she rested her chin on her knees and peered out directly in front of her. She held her arm out eye level and stared at the small tin placed in the center of her palm.  
  
When he came, she was not aware of his presence until he was in front of her. Even then, he had to sit down so that her outstretched arm was parallel to his chest. Plucking the small box from her hand, he looked at it, obviously trying to determine its meaning.  
  
She decided to put him out of his misery. "It's tika." That didn't help him in the least and he let her know with an eloquent raising of one dark brow. "It's a red powder that men put on their wives to let people know they're taken." She lowered her gaze. "Somewhat like a wedding ring."  
  
Darien nodded slowly. "Ah," he said, staring down at the substance with newfound insight. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Where do they put it?"  
  
She answered automatically in Hindi, "Mang." The both laughed lightly at her mistake. "In the parting of her hair," she lifted her four fingers to trace the middle part her blonde hair had been combed into before being pulled back into a bun.  
  
"How long does it last?"  
  
"You can wash it out easily." Serena raised her eyes to meet his again. "Besides, not many people do it anymore, sort of an archaic custom."  
  
He nodded in understanding and they fell into an easy silence. After a while, Serena bit her lip anxiously. "Maybe we should head back—"  
  
"Serena," he interrupted her softly, causing her head to lower unconsciously. She wasn't aware of his actions until she felt his thumb high on her forehead. She lifted her head and eyes in surprise when it dawned on her what he was doing. Never letting his cobalt eyes leave her own, he traced the path of her hair part took with the colored powder. She closed her eyes as he did it, reveling in the firm, gently pressure of his thumb on her head. The poignant moment was not wasted on her and she opened her suddenly bright eyes when he lowered his arm.  
  
Serena's eyes were all ready shining and brimming with unshed tears when he caressed her jaw with his fingers. A lone droplet eked out when his lips met her own in an achingly sweet union.  
  
She lowered her legs to the floor of the gazebo, instinctively trying to bring her body closer to his. Clutching his upper arms for support, she gripped his biceps, her fingers nestled in the security of his steadiness. He emitted a low groan and trailed his hands up from her bare waist, the sides of her breasts, to cup her face with his hands. He pulled back long enough to look into her heavy-lidded eyes and kissed her again. They sipped at each other's lips, short kisses dispersed between heavier, longer ones.  
  
When they finally pulled back, Serena couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she stared out into the darkness, dimly hearing the shrieks of happiness and music from the party they had left. It all seemed so far away, so remote. She felt separated from it all, as if she and Darien were on this remote island, with only this awkwardness to keep them company.  
  
Suddenly, she was miserable. It shouldn't be this way. It should be comfortable, soothing, easing, *nice*. It shouldn't be this hard. Sighing unwittingly, she got up, ready to walk to the exit and head back to the party.  
  
A tug stopped her and she turned to look back about a yard to where Darien still sat. He held one end of her long duppatta, the other still attached to her dress. The long yard of sheer fabric was all the separated them, yet it was all that held them together. She felt naked, exposed, raw. The material really did nothing to protect or cover her, but without it, Serena could help but feel wide open for attack.  
  
He gently pulled the delicate cloth, drawing her nearer as if it were a leash. But it was not, Serena walked slowly of her own accord, Darien only pulling the fabric closer to him.  
  
Soon enough, the entire material was in a pool by Darien's side and she was directly in front of him. His breathing was shallow and hers was accelerated. When he gently placed his hands on her hips, his fingers brushed the warm skin above the low cut line of the skirt. He stood up, diminished her height with his tall form. When he lowered his head to kiss her, her face was already turned up, waiting.  
  
And then, she didn't feel endangered any longer. She felt safe and warm and content. Just like that. Perhaps it was simple after all.  
  
****  
  
When they returned to the party, it was much later and Darien dodged the men's grins and the women's giggles. Serena's reputation, however, was above reproach as she was led off to a mehdi party. After another hour or so, he turned in under the excuse of jet lag. Laying on top of the thick mattress they had placed out on the floor of another wise empty room, Darien stacked his hands behind his head and stared up into the ceiling. He was distracted by sound of tinkling jewelry near his door. When it swung open and Serena stepped in, he sat up in surprise, suddenly wanting to cover his bare torso out of deference to her.  
  
She didn't seem to mind as she crept closer, finally sitting on the edge of his mattress, smiling sweetly. "I just wanted to show you." She held out her left hand for him to see. Darien gazed down at the intricate patterns woven in black on her palm and fingers. The moonlight illuminated the beautiful decorations as well as Serena's hair and face.  
  
"It's beautiful," he whispered thickly, afraid that if he spoke too loud the delicate moment would be shattered.  
  
"Look closer,'' she urged.  
  
At that point he would have fallen off a bridge if she had told him to. Bending his head, he obeyed and was surprised when the cold mix was wiped on the side of his nose by her index finger.  
  
She giggled as he raised his head, startled. Wiping it off gently, she set aside the used napkin she had used. Her left hand rendered immobile, Darien took the opportunity to tickle her ribs. She squirmed and tried to slap his hands away with her only defense: her right hand.  
  
"Uncle," she gasped out in between bouts of muffled laughter.  
  
"That's what I thought," he said smugly, pinching her side before he leaned back on his hands and straightened arms to look at her. She gazed back and for the first time since he had met her, Darien saw true joy shining in her blue eyes. And in that moment he knew that it had been the right choice bringing her here.  
  
As if reading his mind, Serena broke their silent moment. "Darien, I wanted to thank you. You probably got the feeling I wasn't too keen on coming here" He snorted and she glared at him playfully, "But you insisted and I'm so grateful.  
  
"I'd forgotten how magical everything seems to be here. I forgot how wonderful the Khans and all their friends are." She looked down at her linked hands. "I guess after the…attack, I just lumped India with all that Raye had to go through." He noted that she didn't mention the tragedy *she* had to endure. "I was wrong, though. There is so much good here." She stopped and bit her lip, unable to express the maelstrom of emotions running through her.  
  
But he understood and all it took for him to convey that was a light squeeze to her hand. She looked up at him, smiling softly. He didn't know he had angled his body toward her until he was actually kissing her, wreaking havoc through her carefully coiffed bun. When he had untangled one of his hands from the mass of blonde waves, he lowered it to untuck her wrap out of the waistband of the skirt, grazing his fingers across her midriff. He felt her muscles there contract at his touch as she responded ardently to his kisses. He thought absently of his promise to stay away from her. Darien shook the memory from his mind; it was an impractical vow. This woman was a drug, stronger than nicotine or cocaine---kicking the habit was no longer a possibility.  
  
Serena was drowning and the most beautiful part was that she didn't care. Air was no longer a necessity. Only Darien was; his scent, his touch, his kiss. Her fingertips lightly traced his shoulders, reveling in its tightness across his muscles. Moving her hands up, she stroked his jawline before linking her hands behind his neck, pressing gently so that both of them fell back against the mattress.  
  
He pulled away so that he could look at her even in the dark room. The unspoken question was in his face: Are you sure? She nodded and leaned her head down to kiss him again. But Darien stopped them again, sitting up and thereby forcing her to do the same.  
  
"What's wrong?" An embarrassed flush spread high across her cheekbones. The question was faint and vulnerable.  
  
He sighed. "We can't make love until we know how we feel about each other, Serena."  
  
"I know how I feel about you."  
  
He looked up, hope and wariness in his cerulean eyes. "Do you?"  
  
"Mm-hmm," she nodded and leaned toward him again, prepared to kiss him softly.  
  
But he turned away from her. "Well, I love you, Serena. In fact, I want to marry you." She gasped and pulled back, her eyes as wide as saucers in the moonlight. He laughed bitterly. "Do you love me?"  
  
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Instead, she got up noiselessly and left, her anklets suddenly falling silent as she ran to her room.  
  
****  
  
The rest of their trip, Serena avoided him at all costs. Darien kept his distance, unable to blame her for her guarded caution. He knew she loved him, he knew it in his bone. Whether she admitted to it or not was a matter of fighting her own personal demons. As much as Darien wanted to be there for her, help her even, it was a battle Serena had to take on alone. So he allowed her space, not pressing the matter in any way. He even went so far as to change their seats so that Serena could be relatively alone on the way back to London.  
  
Megan saw the difference in their relationship and continuously shot him puzzled looks. But he just shook his head silently, unable to answer her pressing questions. She seemed to understand the gist of the problem, quietly offering her comfort. If it was one thing Darien learned during his stay in India, it was that expressions said everything.  
  
It was only when they had claimed their baggage that Serena uttered her first words to him since that night in his room. "I trust you are a man of your word, Darien."  
  
He peered at her expressionlessly. He knew what she was saying. "You know I am."  
  
"Then our agreement still stands. I think it would be best if we didn't see each other again."  
  
He nodded once, his face still a mask void of emotion. Even his voice was that of an automaton. "If that's what you want."  
  
"It is," she said, perversely upset that he agreed so quickly.  
  
"I'll drop you home then."  
  
Knowing that these were their last moments together, she didn't protest. Not any words were exchanged between them as their bags were loaded and they sat together in the back of Darien's car. He gave his driver Serena's address and leaned back, completely avoiding look at her.  
  
She stared at his profile, a heavy sadness washing over her. Yes, he may love her now but how long would that last? No, it was better not to do this. It was safer, wiser.  
  
Then why didn't she believe a word of what she was saying? Tears threatened to spill over but she called them back, commanding herself to save them for when she was home. Men like Darien didn't stay interested in women like her for long. And as for her—well, she didn't deserve it. *Any* of it.  
  
She looked out the window and would have laughed had this not been her life. Wonder of wonders, it had started to rain. 


	10. Broken 9

Broken  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
By Karisma  
  
Rated: PG-13  
  
Genre: Alt, Romance  
  
Karisma456@hotmail.com  
  
Standard Disclaimers Apply  
  
May 2002  
  
He was quiet as he brought her bag into her living room. She turned to him, dreading the good-bye part of their relationship. It would be awkward, ending her love for him with a polite handshake and a tediously lacking 'thank-you'. But he surprised her by not moving to touch her at all as he stood by the door, yards away from her.  
  
He pointed a finger to the picture she had left on the coffee table. It was the sketch of an ornament in the shape of a crystal angel. It had fallen from two hands above, the intricate head separated and lying next to the graceful body, wings and all.  
  
"That's how you see yourself, isn't it? Some broken thing beyond repair?" She didn't answer, but he hadn't been expecting one. "Do you remember what you said to me before we left for India?" He waited for her puzzled nod before continuing. "Well, I don't consider you a project to help, Serena. I don't want to fix you; I want you to stop being such a wet blanket. Try and live life. Others have done it for years and they seem pretty happy." His tone grew caustic, biting, harsh even. Serena involuntarily took a step back at his almost vicious tone.  
  
"When you said you didn't want to fight anymore, I assumed you meant legally. Maybe you meant all together. Well, I happen to think that's rather selfish of you, Serena. There are a quite a number of people who would give their right arms for you to crack one genuinely joyful smile. Because they care about you. They want you to receive the happiness they think you deserve."  
  
"And you don't think I deserve it." It wasn't a question, it was flat statement. There was a spark in her eyes he had not seen since she knew he knew about the rape.  
  
"I don't know. Maybe you're determined to not be happy because in doing so you'd be betraying something. Maybe you want to be miserable for the rest of your life because that way you can atone for your unforgivable grievances." He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and caring. "What grievances, Serena? You haven't done anything that deserves a life of wretched solitude."  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about, Darien," she said quietly, turning away from his burning gaze, her hands clenching at the sides of her white sundress.  
  
"Don't I?" Frustrated beyond belief, he looked away from her figure, as if unable to tolerate the sight of her anymore.  
  
"No," her voice hardened. "You don't. You know nothing."  
  
"Yes, that's right." The sarcasm was back, dripping from every hurtful word. "You're the martyr here, the victim. You're the one who must bear the cross life had burdened you with. Wake up, Serena! You're choosing this life out of a twisted desire to purge yourself. There is no need to! You have done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. But you're going to spend the rest of your lonely life extracting pity from those around you. Yes, they'll say 'Poor, Serena. How she's suffered so.' Is that it? Maybe after that you think you'll finally be forgiven for what happened to Raye?  
  
"There's no need to seek forgiveness. No one blames you but you. Raye has managed a beautiful life for herself. But you...all you can do is flog yourself daily in hope that perhaps it'll be enough retribution." He sucked in air, his chest heaving with emotional exertion. His voice was calm when he spoke again. "Well, I'm done, Serena. I love you like hell. Too much to watch you do this to yourself. Too damn much to watch as this thing destroy you."  
  
She didn't see him leave, but felt it. As soon as he was gone, she felt the desolation enter her, causing her to crumple in a heap on the floor where she stood, unable to summon up the energy to move.  
  
"Darien," she called inaudibly, the loss within her so palpably painful she couldn't actually form the name. She could vaguely hear the rain outside, it wasn't a drizzle or even a constant pour. It was raining buckets, sheets coming down continuously, slapping her windows mercilessly. It lulled it somewhat until she felt herself get up and open the balcony door. The small actions had drained her of energy. She fell against the railing in a sobbing mess, her body drenched within seconds. One hand clung loosely to the bars that supported her.  
  
She raised her face to the angry skies above her, hot tears blending in with the cold rainwater to make a beautiful numbness. Oblivion was a blessing she wasn't graced with. She released the railing and fell down on her side on the ground of her balcony. The beating pulse of the rain sent her hair strewn all over her face and she absently felt a sense of déjà vu.  
  
She was seventeen again and lying in the wet dirt, despair drenching her more than the rain ever could. The sky cried for her; the clouds loomed over, their dusky wisps sobbing for her plight. The dismal rain misted over her collapsed figure. The blonde enveloped in the vapor looked like a fallen angel in her dirtied white garb.  
  
*****  
  
1 Darien stared out into the night view of London from his office. His eyes failed to register the glittering lights from tall buildings and homes down below. He didn't take in the stars shining brightly against their velvet backdrop. His mind was fully occupied with Serena. Everywhere he went, memories of her assaulted him. Turning away from the large window with self-disgust, his eyes fell on the leather couch where they had played cards into the early morning.  
  
Damn. Yet another memory to add to the pile that suffocated his thoughts, making work impossible.  
  
He sat down on his chair, banging his head on the soft leather of the headrest behind him. After a while, he gave up the fruitless action and closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against them to stop the burning sensation that started from behind them.  
  
He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. The way things were going, it was highly unlikely he'd ever sleep again. Which wouldn't be the worst thing if he had something to occupy his copious amount of free time. But he had already established that he couldn't work.  
  
Which made for Darien McDermott's private hell.  
  
For the umpteenth time, he wondered where she was, what she was doing, if she was thinking of him. He hoped she was. He wanted her to be thinking of him with as much longing and yearning he held for her. He wanted that much of her, at least for the time being. If her future did not include him, then he wanted her happiness.  
  
One of them should have it, he decided wryly.  
  
When he woke up the next morning, Serena's cheerful face was above him, waving a cup of hot coffee below his nose. He groaned and closed his eyes again, he had had this dream before. Thousands of times, sans the coffee though. He would reach out for her and then she would disintegrate, leaving him bereft and painfully lonely.  
  
However, the coffee sure did smell real. He inhaled another breath and cracked one eye open. The other soon followed when the first caught a picture of Serena spreading cream cheese on a bagel.  
  
He propped himself up on the couch, using the armrest to support his back. He stared at her, unable to fathom the mirage that was before him.  
  
She looked up from her task to make eye contact with him. "You didn't even go home last night?" She shot him a disapproving glare.  
  
He did not reply, afraid that if he spoke he would break the spell that had been concocted to bring her here. Even if this was a dream, it didn't matter. For a few short, surreal seconds he had her with him.  
  
But the silence grew to be too painful.  
  
"Why are you here?" He croaked."  
  
She looked surprised. "I work here, Darien." The look on her face was a bit condescending, as if Darien should have realized that because it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"No," he trailed off, unable to complete the thought when she was holding up the steaming cup of coffee to him. He took a gulp and scalding pain ran through him as the liquid burning his tongue and throat. He welcomed it. She was still there. It was no dream. "You don't work here anymore, Serena. You know that."  
  
She put down the knife she was using the spread the cream. Sighing, she turned to him. "Not as your translator, but I was hoping to apply for another position." His silence was an invitation to continue. "Well, the way I see it, you need a wife. And I've grown rather fond of you so I thought, 'why not'?" She tried a smile but it was fleeting when he looked at her with the same stoniness.  
  
"Come on, Darien," she coaxed. "You have some of the worst habits. You need me. First, the sleeping in your office thing has to go. Also, you cannot go around leaving your empty coffee mugs around. It's horribly annoying and I'm not going to chase after you, picking them up and washing—"  
  
"Serena," he interrupted gravely. She bit her lip and looked up at him. The time of joking around was over, he wanted to be serious.  
  
Not wanting to hear what he was surely going to say, she continued somberly, "You were right that night about a lot of things that night, Darien. But wrong about one: I don't want to be alone." One tear ekked out of her crystalline eyes, sliding down her pale cheek. She brushed it away impatiently with the cuff of her long sleeved shirt.  
  
"What do you want?" He asked carefully.  
  
"I want to be with you," she whispered, looking up into his eyes with such honesty that he inhaled sharply. She took the action negative feedback, more tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked down at her blue jeans. "That is, if you still want to be with me. If you'll still have me."  
  
Even her doubt increased his love for her by tenfold. "Don't ever think that I don't want you," he said fiercely, bringing her in the circle of his arms with one swift motion.  
  
She raised her head up to press her lips against his. He was surprised at first; it was the first time that she had ever initiated a kiss. But mild shock melted away when he felt her tongue graze the seam of his lips. Emitting a low growl, he formed a cradle for her face with his hands, kissing her ardently.  
  
When they finally pulled away, she smiled softly. "So do I get the job?"  
  
He chuckled tenderly. "You start immediately."  
  
"Yay!" She cheered, before laughing. "And I didn't even have to sleep with the boss."  
  
He tweaked her nose affectionately. "Not yet, anyway."  
  
She rested her head against the wall of his chest, leaning against him as she brought her legs up to the couch to tangle with his. An effervescent emotion ran through her and it took a while for her to label it. Her smile widened when she realized with a jolt that it was blissful contentment. Her arms tightened around his waist, thinking about how close she had come to losing him. But she hadn't, she reminded herself, she had his love. She deserved it, despite the—  
  
He sense her shift in mood and quickly knew its source. Looking down at her, he stroked the blonde hair away from her face. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently.  
  
She laughed sadly. "No." She paused. "But at the same time, yes. Either way, I know I need to." She raised her hand to brush the back of it against his stubbled cheek.  
  
By the time she had told him what the nurse told her about Raye being unable to have children, they were both crying. But she wasn't the sobbing mess she had envisioned herself to be when she retold this story. She had imagined that she would become hysterical, inconsolable even. But, no, she was not. She was cleansed. As Darien grasped her hand, she squeezed it tightly, bringing herself closer to him so that she could hug him.  
  
She was all right. No, she was more than all right. She had Darien, she had her family, she had a life, she had happiness. She was fantastic, marvelous, wonderful.  
  
But most importantly, she was complete.  
  
Or she would be, once she finally said what needed to be said.  
  
"I love you, Darien." 


End file.
